


A Lesson In Team Play

by randomnickname



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: (kinda), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Foe Yay, Gaming, Hate Sex, Identity Porn, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, OR IS IT, Online Friendship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomnickname/pseuds/randomnickname
Summary: "When he looked up the construction worker was considering him with a weird, calculating gaze."Sweet set-up, right?" he drawled.There was a peculiar, intense undercurrent in his raspy voice, and it put Justin on edge, his cop senses tingling. And also ...somethingabout his speech flow, something Justin couldn't place.Where had he heard it before?"Between Justin's work troubles and the hot but infuriating construction worker he won't stop bumping into, his life is frankly exhausting. His only reprieve? Slaying demons, zombies and enemy players alike with his online buddy, ChainsawMassacre.Now if only the world wasn't such a small place...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fox_In_A_Box](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_In_A_Box/gifts).



Justin dispassionately gazed at the smoldering building, sipping on his coffee.

Kids, pets and grandmas had been saved from the flames, the fire quenched in orderly fashion. Nothing left to see, but still a gaggle of civilians hung about, taking pictures, crowding the freshly rescued and pestering the firemen.

Justin clicked his tongue in disapproval. Had it been him, he'd immediately established a security perimeter and told every unwanted intruder to shove it. But he wasn't on duty, and had a personal policy not to interfere with the way other departments handled things. The fire was a mere fortuity on his way to work.

He'd probably have to find a new coffee shop while the apartment building was renovated, though. Nothing like the noise of pneumatic drills to give you headaches early in the morning.

At least construction workers were already on site. A group of them lounged at the margin of the crowd, their work on the canalization down the road temporarily forgotten.

They seemed to examine something on the road side and Justin stepped closer, curious.

He was trying to peer above the brawny shoulder of a tall construction worker when the man turned and gave him a once-over. His quick inspection lightened his scowl into an expression that could have passed as amiable, had it not been framed by so many piercings. _Thug_ , Justin thought automatically.

"Quite the chaos, hm?" the guy said, watching Justin. He had droopy, lazy eyes that conferred him a slightly sardonic air.

Justin reflexively tensed, but nodded, his smile polite. "Do they already know what started the fire?" he inquired.

The guy shrugged. "Nah, heard nothin' so far."

Noticing Justin's insistent gaze, he stepped aside so that Justin could finally see what the humbug was all about.

A pile of various belongings was spread out on the sidewalk like a messy treasure horde. A noticeably geeky one, too: collectibles in their original packages, some expensive looking scale models and DVD boxes, and - _oh_. A _very_ handsome PC tower, gleaming like brand-new plastic.

"Guy ran back into the burning building to save his stuff, got a lungful of smoke for his troubles," the construction worker explained unprompted. Judging from his nasty chuckle, he found it pretty amusing. "But they didn't let him take that with him in the ambulance." He gestured over his shoulder, where the red and white vehicle was departing in a chorus of howling sirens. "So he left his junk in our tender care."

Junk? The PC was a professional gaming tower, brand new on the market and probably worth as much as a tiny car. Justin had to refrain himself not to drool over it. But some of it might be showing, because when he looked up the construction worker was considering him with a weird, calculating gaze.

"Sweet set-up, right?" he drawled.

There was a peculiar, intense undercurrent in his raspy voice, and it put Justin on edge, his cop senses tingling. And also ... _something_ about his speech flow, something Justin couldn't place. Where had he heard it before?

"Yes," he said, carefully neutral. "I can get why he risked his life for it."

The man appeared to repress a smile. He did a quick scan of his surroundings, then leisurely crossed his gloved hands behind his neck and drew himself up to his full height, a few inches more than Justin's. His wife-beater rode up a bit, exposing a slice of taut stomach.

He treated Justin to a slow grin. "Tell you what. 100 bucks and it's yours."

Justin froze. "Beg your pardon?"

"C'mon, I know you want it," the guy said invitingly. "Owner's gone, maybe kicks the bucket if you're lucky. So finders, keepers, amirite?"

Justin processed that. "That man entrusted you with his most precious belongings and left them for you to keep watch other," he recapped stonily, "And you are offering to sell them to me?"

His change in tone flew right over the guy's head. "Yup," the jackass answered proudly.

"For 100$?"

"Hm." The guy's gaze roved over him, and his grin gained a lecherous edge. "50 bucks if you gimme your number, hot stuff."

Justin blinked, taken aback.

Today was a day of firsts. First time his unusually strong cop vibes didn't prevent an illicit sale right under his nose. First time someone dared hit on him in such a brutal, undisguised fashion.

Jerk. Justin firmly ignored the heat that had crept up his cheeks, and donned his sweetest smile. Time to give that thug a taste of his own medicine.

"What's your name?" he asked with a coquettish smile.

The guy watched him with hooded eyes. "It's Giriko." His voice had grown darker, warmer. "My shift ends at 4pm. Free after?"

Wow, he wasn't beating around the bush, that one. Intense. Justin swallowed, feeling his face heat up further, but when he next spoke his voice was steady. "Your ID will suffice, thanks."

Giriko frowned. "What?"

Justin repressed the urge for evil laughter, and flashed his badge instead. He smiled, sharp and victorious, when the flirtatious confidence sludged off the man's face like tar.

There, that was better. Him with the upper hand, a dismayed criminal. That was how things were supposed to be.

"What was it about selling someone else's belongings?" he said, his voice syrupy with fake innocence.

Giriko's face clouded over, but he held up his hands conciliatorily. "Look man, it was just a joke, okay?" he said, quite put-together. "Wasn't gotta take your money or nuffin', I just wanted to mess with you a bit, right?"

He tried to catch his colleague's eyes, chasing their support, but they were already retreating to avoid getting involved. Smart.

"Hm-hm. Is that so?" Justin cocked an eyebrow, allowed the silence to linger until Giriko started relaxing. Then he offered a placid smile. "I'll still need your ID, if you please."

Giriko's calm shattered. " _What the fuck?_ " he vociferated, eyes ablaze. He took a large step forward, the muscles in his shoulders rippling and his gloved hands clenching to fists . "You _can't_ do this, you piece of shit, I didn't do nothin' wrong!"

The very tangible physical threat he oozed had Justin react automatically, stance shifting and hand settling on his holster. That was the routine kicking in, a desirable reaction.

What was less so was the ferocious want that flamed up, brazier-like, in Justin's abdomen. _Yes_ , a part of him crowed. _Yes, him._

He couldn't even tell if it was arousal, or some sort of sadistic urge - only that he was over-aware of the acrid stench of the fire, of his clothes against his skin, the weight of Giriko's furious gaze. His skin felt too hot, too tight. He had the overpowering urge to grab a handful of Giriko's sandy brown hair and _yank_.

But he was _on duty_ , for lord's sake! And that guy was just some ... aggressive thug with too many earrings. Nothing worth getting heated up over, really.

Still, his lungs didn't want to hold enough air anymore, and he forced himself to inhale deeply. He licked his lips, rebuilt his composure. "I would advise against insulting me further," he said, and infused his voice with all the glacial authority he managed. "Your ID. Now."

Giriko's nostrils flared. He seemed to very seriously consider taking a swing at him, and Justin made his grip on his revolver more obvious.

After a beat, Giriko swore and crammed in his pockets, glare not leaving Justin's.

"Here," he growled, slamming his ID card into Justin's waiting hand. It stung. "Fuckin' bastard."

Justin couldn't help himself. "There's a good boy," he purred.

Giriko's eyes flashed dangerously, his lips curling into a vicious snarl, and Justin's mouth went dry, the want flaring up again. Damn. Could he add "triggering of inappropriate feelings" to Giriko's felonies?

He ducked his head to take pictures of the ID, before handing it back to his fuming owner, avoiding touch contact.

"Do I have to specify that, in case any distraught fire-survivor barges into my precinct with a theft complaint, you will hear from me on very different charges than the current ones?"

Giriko's expression soured even further. "No."

"Good."

With one last nod, Justin made to leave. Then stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder with a thoughtful expression.

"By the way, that PC has a starting bid of at least 3,000$ on eBay," he said nonchalantly, as if it had just occurred to him. The way that new information brought Giriko to grind his teeth in frustration and a vein to throb at his temple was very, _very_ satisfying.

 _Yes darling,_ Justin's inner voice crooned. _You did pass up three grands. Live with it._

He usually wasn't that petty, but that guy had thrown him off balance with his rude flirt attempt - and his own unusual reaction to it. Justin felt like retaliating.

"So next time..." he drawled. "Do your research, _hot stuff._ " He winked, and turned away.

He heard Giriko splutter indignantly, and walked off with a bounce in his step.

*

Ten minutes at his precinct were enough to rinse off the feeling of victory.

"Archive duty? Seriously?"

He looked at the note in horror, but yes, it was his name on it.

"Is this because of how I worked the Nakatsukasa case? What did I do?"

Mira Nygus propped one hip on his desk, and cast him an ironic glance. "What you did _not_ do is the better question here, Law." She began counting on her fingers. "You did _not_ notify Sergeant Barrett of your newest findings. You did _not_ wait for his go-ahead before launching into pursuit. You did _not_ call for reinforcement while there was still time for it."

"Like I _repeatedly_ explained in my report, there wasn't a minute to lose," Justin protested. "All clues led to think that Masamune Nakatsukasa was about to strike again. My quick intervention is the only reason we have no further murder victim on our arms!"

Nygus pinched her lips. "That's not the point, Justin."

Great, now she was calling him by his first name. That was reserved for major fuck-ups, when she felt compelled to slip back into her year-long role as his mentor. "You're one of the finest behavior analyst I've ever met, but you're not an active field officer anymore. You can't just run out to arrest bad guys on a whim.”

"It was an _emergency_ ," Justin insisted. "And I've had the same field training as the rest of you. I handled it perfectly."

Nygus pulled a skeptic face. "You're telling me that with the time it took you to rush to that train station on your shitty dune buggy, you couldn't have called me? Or any other colleague, for that matter?"

"I had the situation under control," he stiffly answered, palms resting flat on his knees.

Nygus sighed, standing up, and shoved her hands in her pockets. "You'll still have to give Stein a proper debrief about your procedural errors. In person."

Justin grimaced. He hated the commander's summons. Stein wielded this infuriating, condescending tone that always made Justin feel as if he was five years old again ... also, he could never get a proper read on him behind those oddly reflective glasses.

"You're on Stein's shit list, J," Nygus added. "He really disliked his resident child prodigy playing lone ranger like this. His words, not mine." She shrugged, apologetic. Justin's mind briefly flashed to his encounter with the construction worker, earlier - he wondered if he should drop the case rather than drawing attention to the fact he had been playing field agent uninvited once again.

Nygus made to leave, then paused with a look at Justin's drawn face. "Justin ..." she said in her gentlest tone. "I know that you're not cut out for mere desk work - but you took far too much risks this time. If you want your career to speed up, you _have_ to learn how to be a team player."

Justin took a measured breath, staring at his desk. "Thanks, Detective," he finally said.

Nygus shot him a sad smile, and retreated.

Once she was out of sight Justin hid his face in his hands. Fuck. And he who thought that the Nakatsukasa case would bring him in the commander's good graces...

As one of the precinct youngest detectives, he'd always had to fight for approval, despite having proven his competences over and over again. And now this case, this textbook-ready case, plopped on Stein's lap clean and well-wrapped like a late Christmas gift, would be held above Justin's head, reduce all of his efforts to nothingness? It was _maddening_.

He was sullenly carrying boxes of folders towards the poky archive room when his phone pinged. It was the sound of a Discord alert - only one thing it could mean. Justin reached for his phone, a smile already forming on his lips. 

> **From ChainsawMassacre**
> 
> _round of kishin hunter later? need to release some steam_

_Yes please!_ Justin thought, grinning at the notification. Serendipitous indeed. Kishin Hunter wasn't his favorite game, but it was gory and fun, a perfect venting method. And the prospect of gaming with ChainsawMassacre, for the first time in almost a week now, was sorely needed to brighten up his day. He considered showering his poor online buddy with a metric ton of heart emojis, then settled on a more sober text. 

> **From justice4242**
> 
> _i'm game :D 21h fine?_
> 
> **From ChainsawMassacre**
> 
> _👌 💀💀💀_

Justin pocketed his phone, feeling resolutely happier.


	2. Chapter 2

Justin slid into his gaming chair with a sigh of pleasure, breathing in the scent of fresh leather. Home.

The little whirring of fans as the tower booted up, the blinking of diodes and the faint glow of his ergonomic keyboard - it all acted together to put him at ease, soothing the pent-up frustration of one long, shitty day.

Only one element missing for Justin to be able to really relax, but ChainsawMassacre wasn't online yet. Justin played a quick round of _Death Academy_ to warm up and pass the time, sneaking his sniper to a remote platform and killing off enemy players with precise head shots. None of the opponents found him in time to survive the round, but then on an open server like this one there was no real competition for him - he was ranked within the top fifty _Death Academy_ players, a convenient byproduct of an almost non-existent social life and chronic insomnia.

He was about to start another match when he heard the tell-tale ping of the Discord server. A notification popped up on the lower right of his screen.

**ChainsawMassacre joined the chat**

**ChainsawMassacre is calling you**

Justin smiled, and accepted the call.

"Yo Justice, what's up" said a voice grizzly with statics.

Justin grimaced, and turned down the volume of his headphones. "What the hell are you doing with your mic, Saw, munching on it? I hear you even worse than usual."

"My mic's fine, J, you're just being prissy," the voice said grumpily. There was an awfully loud hissing noise that was probably ChainsawMassacre blowing on his microphone, then he talked again, voice decidedly less metallic. "There. Happy?"

Justin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, still bad, same as ever. How are you, man?"

"Meh," came the ineloquent answer. "Shitty mood. Let's play. I need to shoot shit dead."

Hm. Saw sounded particularly grouchy tonight, not that he was an upbeat person on the best of days. Justin decided not to push the issue - best to let him thaw a bit first.

"Ok, let's get this party started then," he said, and launched the game in co-op mode. "Any preferences for a map?"

"Your call."

"Fine with the Catacombs?"

There was a little grouchy noise that was as good a confirmation as it got, when it came to Saw. Justin didn't bother repressing his fond grin.

"Aaaawright, let's kick some kishin ass!" he cheerfully exclaimed.

His character materialized, Tommy gun in hand, next to Saw's, who had decided, surprise, on the chainsaw as his default weapon. They took off running, Saw leading and Justin giving him cover.

 _Kishin Hunter_ 's goal was to clear the map of its resident abominations, demons that bounced on the players from every dark nook and corner and sometimes surged _en masse_ to overflow the players. It provided nice jump-scare elements, and geysers of blood whenever they hit the targets.

As they entered a crypt, the luminosity level dropped at once - when the light came back they were surrounded. The slaughter could begin.

The next hour was a blur of frantic keyboard smashing, digital blood spattering the screen bright red, and delighted yelps. Between the adrenaline and Saw's familiar, vicious cursing in his ears, Justin's was short-breathed and jumpy, staring at his screen in rapt concentration. They had turned the game to its highest difficulty setting, yet Saw and him worked in perfect sync, keeping watch while their partner ate kishin souls to regenerate their health, urging each other on in a chorus of "Watch out!" and "Behind you!" and "Run, run, run!".

The last few minutes saw them clinging to victory by a thread, cornered in an archway with both their health bars at an all-time low. But Justin managed to launch his remaining grenade at an almost impossible angle, obliterating six kishins at once. In one last heroic streak they raced forward, mowing down the rest of their enemies, and managed not to get killed in the process. The last kishin fell, and the victory music started blasting, soon drowned out by Saw's roar of triumph.

Justin slumped back in his chair with an elated grin, heart racing. "We made it!" he crowed. "Oh god, I really thought they were going to get us at the end, thought I'd screw up that last grenade launch."

"Nah," Saw contradicted. "Knew we were going to win! We're a hella good team, Justice."

His voice was filled with iron-clad confidence, and Justin's heart squeezed, just a little.

He had been gaming with Saw for half a year now, and what had started out as a random internet encounter had slowly, steadily grown into a friendship. And yes, one of its primary motors was the way they reached perfect synchrony whenever they played co-op, matching in skill and understanding each other's train of thought without any conscious effort. Gaming was never as fun as when he played with Saw.

But, Justin pondered as they squabbled over the stats and good-naturedly accused each other of kill-thieving, it had become so much more. To Justin, at least, given the warmth blooming in his chest at Saw's hoarse bout of laughter. When had he started caring so much about someone he'd never met?

He cleared his throat, swallowing the thought to consider another day. "So, what's the matter with the shitty mood?" he asked.

"Hm?" Saw said, before harrumphing. "Oh, that. Hm."

There was a beat of silence, and Justin quickly added, "If you want to talk about it." Their private lives wasn't a taboo subject, but somehow it seldom came up.

Justin heard a sigh and a bottle clink before Saw spoke again. "Nah, it's nothing," he said, but the tension in his voice told another story. "Some shitstain got me into trouble at work, and that got me in trouble with my bitch of an overseer, so now I'm getting a fucking pay cut to 'teach me manners' or some shit." There was an aggravated huff, a loud gulp as liquid sloshed. "Just want to fuckin' _off_ the both of them," he hissed, venomous.

Justin cringed in sympathy. "Oh, that really sucks, I'm so sorry to hear that!"

"Yeah," Saw grumbled. "Gonna be tougher to make ends meet this month, but hey, I'll survive."

"Okay." Justin hesitated, then took the plunge. "Look, if you're ever in a pinch, just let me know, yeah? I can always help out."

There was a second of shocked silence, then Saw breathed out a mildly offended: "Dude!"

"What," Justin retorted, nervously drumming on his mouse pad. "I earn a lot and I'm never spending my money on anything worthwhile. Might as well help out a friend."

Saw was quiet for a while and Justin bit his tongue. He shouldn't have been that direct, he admonished himself, that offer was way too intimate... But then came a low-pitched: "Okay," and Justin sagged in relief. Saw went on: "Ain't gonna happen, but still, thanks for the offer, man, appreciate it."

Justin grinned. "Aw, are you going sentimental on me?"

"Like hell I am, douchebag!" Saw bristled, and Justin laughed obnoxiously.

"You're a real lousy git, you know that?" Saw went on. "And you didn't tell me how you're doing." Only he could turn that into a reproach.

Justin sighed, and morosely reclined in his chair. "Not great either to be honest. My boss wants my hide."

"Heh, what, a goody two-shoes like you?"

"Goody two-shoes?! Do you know me at all?" Justin started spinning his chair, but soon entangled himself in his headphone's cable. "I was simply careless enough to give my boss a valid reason to diss me, he's never liked me in the first place. He's ... such a _jer_ _k!_ "

“A 'jerk', heh? You're cute.” Justin huffed, feeling a spot of heat, high on his cheeks.

"What's his home address?” Saw went on, dark amusement in his voice. “I could arrange for a ... lil' problem with the brakes of his car, if you get my meaning.”

Justin couldn't repress a startled laughter. "Don't tempt me!"

"Your call, dude," Saw answered casually. "But if you ever change your mind, the offer stands."

It sounded completely genuine, and something in Justin went very attentive at that whiff of criminal intent; but he firmly tamped it down. It was about time he learned how to take a simple joke, dammit.

"Thanks, but I have a plan on how to get in his good graces again, I'll tell you how it works out," he eluded. "But in the meantime ... Do you still have time for a round of _Resonance_?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Justin inwardly cheered. One fine evening indeed. _Resonance_ was a battle royale type game, where a team of two players competed with 49 others on a massive map until all opponents were dead. The adrenaline ran high and no two matches were ever similar, so _Resonance_ had quickly become Saw and Justin's favourite.

The countdown for the round had already started when there was a grumble from Saw, directed away from the mic: "What? Blair, no, get off my lap, I'm about to play!"

Justin felt his stomach droop. You never really knew the circumstances in which your online partner was while gaming, but still, he thought he'd had Saw's undivided attention here. He swallowed. "Didn't know you had a lady over," he said, carefully pitching his voice neutral. "We can call it a day if you want to."

"Huh?" Saw answered automatically, before barking a laughter. "Course not, idiot," he said, sounding amused, and the knot in Justin's stomach mellowed. "Blair's just a stray cat. That bitch gets in when I leave the window open, and steals my food. Wait, I'll send you a pic."

That was a rare occurrence - the only pictures they sent each other were the occasional screenshot to bloat about their stats. It just now occurred to Justin that he didn't have the tiniest clue as to what Saw looked like. Why was it bothering him now?

A Discord notification popped open, displaying the photo - it showed a tiny black cat, staring up at the camera with huge, golden eyes. It was sitting on a jeans-clad lap, and a large, tanned hand rested on its back.

"Sending me pics of your crotch now? That's like, one step above dick pics," Justin teased.

There was a rumbling laughter. "You wish." Justin had to bite his lips, and was glad Saw couldn't see his face right now.

"Just get on with fawning over how cute she is already," the latter urged him.

Justin stopped scrutinizing the hand to give the cat a vague glance. "Uhm. Yes, cute, I guess."

"You _guess?_ " Saw said, indignant.

"Not much of a cat person, sorry."

"Well no shit."

Justin had to smile at the pout he could hear in Saw's voice. He was always so endearingly grouchy.

"Alright, cat dad," he said as the countdown reached zero, and flexed his fingers above the keyboard. "Think we can manage it in the top five this time? Or do you need to take a break first, go take care of the kitty litter?"

"Har har. You're fucking _on_ , kid."

Justin's face twisted into a savage grin. "Let's slay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So half of this fic is gonna be pure dialogue, hope it doesn't deter you too much :D if you liked it please let me know? i'm always delighted by comments, short or long <3


	3. Chapter 3

Justin took a steadying breath, and pushed open the bar's clunky, ornate door.

Inside was a mellow half-dark, foggy with cigarette smoke, and it took him a few seconds to spot his targets, lounging in a booth of plump green leather at the other end of the low-ceiled room. He deflected a waiter's offer to seat him and walked over with purposeful strides, cringing as the acrid stench of burned tobacco assaulted his nostrils. Forcing down the squirmy unease those foreign surroundings brought forth, he plastered on his most amiable smile.

"Detective, commander, deputy district attorney," he declared in what he hoped was a convincingly casual tone, nodding to the three of them in turn. "What a pleasure to see all of you here - mind if I join you?"

Nygus, half-hidden in the furthest corner of the booth, mouthed at him, her lips silently forming a question: _what are you doing?!_

He ignored her in favor of the district attorney, who sighed from behind her wine glass. "Good grief, Law, we're after hours, call me Azusa," she said with a pointed look. "Sit down."

At her gesture, Justin obediently slid into the booth next to Nygus, daring a nervous smile at Stein.

The latter was reclining in a vintage armchair, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lip. His gaze on Justin was mildly curious.

"Such a seldom opportunity to meet you outside of the office, detective," he drawled, resting his cheek in his palm. "My, I thought you allocated your spare time to the heroic hunt of serial killers only."

His gentle tone did nothing to soften that pique, and Justin felt his smile freeze like he'd been sprayed with liquid nitrogen. He shrugged, trying to convey a sort of placid 'what can you do' - but inwardly his mind was racing. He had already let a few weeks slide since his demotion to the archives in order to give Stein enough time to cool down - should he have waited longer? Was this veiled insult the result of the commander's nasty brand of humor, or was it a tell-tale sign of some deeper grudge?

As he considered the possibilities, Stein went on talking. "But please, what are you having?" he said, and waved towards his empty glass. "Drinks are on me."

"Whatever you're having is fine, thanks," Justin answered distractedly, and heard a soft groan from Nygus. But when he glanced at her she was slurping the foam off her beer with focus, one brown arm casually thrown over the ledge of the booth.

After signaling the waiter, Stein resumed his chit-chat with Azusa, and Justin smiled and nodded along, trying to figure out what they were talking about. At the same time he mapped out his strategy, the different openers he could use to steer the discussion towards the Nakatsukasa affair.

Caution and subtlety would be crucial if he was to succeed. But informal conversation had never been Justin's forte - he always came across as too stiff, too serious, conceited even. He was too much of an introvert to appreciate most social settings. His job he preferred to handle on his own, just him and 20 gigabytes worth of video material and files, until the point was reached where he could confront his victim during one final, devastating interrogatory.

If only he could be as relaxed with other people as he was when he chatted with ChainsawMassacre, he thought wistfully. With him Justin never had to force himself to talk, just said whatever was on his mind without ever feeling awkward or forced to hold back.

Maybe he should start insulting Stein to his face and criticize his gaming style. Way to break the ice.

"Justin," Nygus said softly from behind the dark curtain of her dreadlocks. "This better not be what I think it is."

Justin tried his best to seem engrossed with Stein and Azusa's conversation. "I don't know what you mean," he whispered back, and before she could protest the waiter returned and placed a glass of poison green beverage right in front of his nose.

Stein smiled expectantly.

"Oh, uh," Justin stammered. He desperately crammed in his vague knowledge of alcoholic drinks until he found a green one, and ventured, "Absinthe?"

"Indeed," Stein nodded, seizing his identical glass. "Do you not enjoy it? I can ask for something else -" He was already gesturing for the waiter to come back.

Justin felt a rising tide of panic. How much of a social faux pas was it to return a drink?

"Oh, no, no," he quickly denied, and snatched his glass. "I _love_ it, it's just, uh. I'm surprised you like it too."

A slow smile spread on Stein's face. When he cocked his head his stupid wire-rimmed spectacles caught the light of the fashionably dim lamps, an opaque wall of milky glass.

"Ah yes," he mused. "Us absinthe connoisseurs are a rare breed indeed, isn't it?"

Justin could feel the trap snatching shut, an invisible snare looping around his neck. But it was too late to backtrack, and he was no quitter.

Under Stein's watchful gaze, he lifted his drink in a half-hearted toast, and courageously took a sip.

And then it burned. His tongue, his palate, his throat, his sinuses - everything burned and stung and tasted of aniseed, an attempt at fire-breathing gone terribly wrong. He felt the high-proof liquid slither lava-like all the way down to his stomach, intrusive like a foreign body. How strong _was_ that thing? His eyes were watering.

"Delicious," he coughed. Nygus hid her face in her hands.

Stein raised an eyebrow. Then poured a generous measure of water from the little jug the waiter had brought and Justin hadn't registered into his absinthe. The liquor turned white and cloudy; Stein took a calm sip.

"My, it's the first time I see someone drink absinthe undiluted," he commented.

Azusa didn't bother to repress her sniggers, and Justin felt his face grow hot with mortification. Way to flaunt his competence - and in front of his superiors, too ...

With the addition of water the absinthe was strong, but tolerable. Stupid Stein and his stupid little games, Justin thought irritatedly, taking a hearty sip. He was a full-fledged officer who'd successfully worked over thirty cases, goddammit - how could Stein have him feeling like a clumsy teenager after less than 10 minutes in his company?

He drained his absinthe while listening to the conversation one-eared; then, deciding the aniseed taste was quite palatable after all, ordered another. It'd been years since he last drank and he noted with pleasure that it didn't make his stomach churn like he remembered, only made him feel more confident, braver.

And it was much needed, since he still needed to bring up the topic of the Nakatsukasa case. It was tricky, with his career on the line, but he had to risk it if he wanted to shake things up. After a few more sips for good luck, he was finally understanding the term "liquid courage".

He cleared his throat to get the other's attention, interrupting them amidst some story about Azusa's secretary.

"So, commander," he said with what he hoped was a clever smile. "Let's talk hypotheticals. If you had the choice between say, saving a civilian's life for _sure_ or putting an officer's life at a mild risk. What would you pick?"

It was much too blunt an opener, but he couldn't remember those he had inwardly rehearsed. Should do the trick. Or did it?

Azusa raised an impeccable eyebrow. Stein took a long drag of his cigarette, eyes locked on Justin's. It felt as if he'd said an obscenity.

Nygus nervously shifted. "Justin, it's Friday evening, let's not talk about work stuff, alright?"

"It's not _work_ stuff," he protested, clinging to his denial like a limpet. "It's a common ethical debate, and I'm interested in Mr. Stein's opinion on the matter, that's all!"

"Sure about that?"

Beneath the table she ground the heel of her ranger boot hard on his foot, and Justin struggled to keep the pain off his expression. His face felt hot, his mind a tad too slow. A tiny voice at the back of his mind wondered if this was a good idea after all ...

But again, too late to backtrack. Stein's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Oh, but let the man speak, Nygus," he said sweetly. "I'm _dying_ to know what he's getting at..."

*****

Half an hour later Justin landed back on the street with cheeks flushed from the booze, a slight migraine from the cigarette smoke and a mood blacker than tar. The humiliation was hot poison in his stomach, and his anger could have melted an iceberg to a puddle. Oh, but he wanted to kill something. _Someone_.

Stein's harsh words replayed endlessly in his ears. The commander had let Justin properly entangle himself into a messy web of arguments and insinuations, before giving him a masterly dressing down, rebuking him on every single point while Justin's alcohol-slowed mind struggled to keep up.

 _I thought that a few weeks of archive duty would make you come to your senses_ , Stein had said as a finishing statement. _But it's obvious that not only have you not learned from your errors, you can't admit they were errors at all. I wonder whether that demotion should be made permanent._

Justin, frozen with shame and dread, had taken his leave soon after. Nygus could barely look him in the eye.

And what now? Instead of convincing Stein of the rightness of his decisions, Justin had merely escalated things further. He had a stray regret about rebuking ChainsawMassacre's offer to tamper with Stein's brakes. Sure, it would have been an unorthodox way of resolving his issues with the hierarchy, but the image of the commander racing against a house wall full speed... Splattering against the windshield like an ugly fly... What a sweet, sweet fantasy.

And fantasy it would remain, no matter how much of a condescending, arrogant, self-absorbed... _jerk_ Stein was. Justin was a cop, not a law-breaker.

And that meant he wasn't fit for driving, he realized, one leg already tossed across his dune buggy. He sighed, gave the buggy a sorrowful parting pat, and started the long walk home in an unsteady gait. Still better than enduring some taxi driver's chit-chat.

He sullenly trod along Death City's main party lane, the shouts and laughter of the night crowd grating on his nerves. All those obnoxiously loud people having a fun time with their friends ... What right did they have to so clearly enjoy themselves while Justin was stuck in his lonely, angry misery?

On an impulse, he pulled out his phone and started writing. His fingers felt slow and clumsy.

> **From justice4242**
> 
> _hey Saw, i kno it s late but do you have a momentt to talk ? i juost_

"Oi, dickhead!"

Justin stopped in his tracks, then frowned and resumed texting. He hoped Saw was still awake.

> **From justice4242**
> 
> _hey Saw, i kno it s late but do you have a momentt to talk ? i juost screwed up on an epic sc ale and id li_

"Oi, pig! Talking to ya!"

This time he looked up, searching for the provenance of the rude shout, and met the glare of a tall man in a fur-trimmed jacket, lounging in front of a bar on the other side of the street. The window light bounced off the metal strip bridging his nose, and Justin finally recognized him - the construction worker from a few weeks prior.

Obviously the guy remembered him, too - and not very fondly.

"Whatchu doing out here," he said while stepping forward, and casually tossed away his beer bottle. It shattered on the side walk. "Come to harass some poor fucker, huh? Lookin' for someone to put behind bars, get off on your lil' power trip?"

Justin's eyes narrowed, and he stowed away his phone. They were at the end of the party lane, with barely any onlookers. Did that guy want to get physical, or what?

Justin didn't feel disinclined.

He should deescalate the situation while there was still time, a rational part of him argued as he watched the muscly construction worker barrel closer.

On any other day, he would have.

But instead he widened his stance, chin tilted up in a clear ' _I'm-better-than-you._ ' His voice took on a drawling edge. "Look, Giro - "

The man spat on the ground. "It's _Giriko_ , you motherfucker!"

"Good for you. Well, _Gi-ri-ko,_ " - he over-articulated the name as if speaking to a three-years-old - "It might not have occurred to you but cops are, by default, human beings. We eat, we sleep, we shit, and sometimes we even go out for a drink." He offered a condescending smile.

There it was again, that glee he found in pushing Giriko's buttons, like he was a toddler and Giriko a colorful, beeping remote control. It was so delightfully easy to mess with him, and something within Justin, that had been curled tight with shame since Stein ridiculed him, thawed. This guy he simply _got_.

"D'you think I give a single fuck?" Giriko snarled, now close enough that Justin could smell the alcohol on his breath. He wasn't sober, it seemed, but then neither was Justin. "I just don't like to see your stupid face around. Don't need no prick running around my part of town to play his fuckin' mind games."

"This presupposes there's enough matter between your ears to toy with," Justin retorted. _Boom_. He felt incredibly witty.

The insult was too subtle for Giriko, whose face scrunched up for a second as he tried to process it. It looked almost cute, but he eventually shook himself.

"Don't you smart-ass me. All you cops are the fuckin' same, playing high and mighty 'til you face the heat." He sniffed in disdain. "Bunch of cowards and jackasses. You're acting all clever now, but once you're -"

"Shut up."

Giriko gaped in shock. "Diddya just tell me to _shut up?_ " Seemed that didn't happen often.

"Sure did."

"Well _fuck you_ you fuckin'," the man started hotly, then abruptly paused. "You're trying to get me to fight you so you can toss me in jail, ain't ya."

Beneath his pierced brows his eyes flashed, his mouth contorting in anger, and Justin _wanted_.

He breathed deeply, evenly, savoring the moment and the rising tide of his adrenaline flow.

"Yes to the first, no to the second," he said, boldly holding Giriko's gaze. "I'm not in service right now. Just a random civilian."

He let the implication of that sink in for a beat, then went on. "Got a bone to pick with me?" He nodded towards the dark shape of a back alley with a challenge in his eyes. "Ready when you are."

On that, he walked into the alley without a look back, taking off his coat and letting it drop to the floor. The alley was a narrow space between two buildings, barely lighted by a few stray rays from the street lamps; it couldn't be further from the sophisticated bar he had just left. A good place to have a street brawl, not that Justin had made a habit of it so far. And shouldn't, if he didn't want to compromise his career further; but to hell with playing safe. Tonight he did what he _wanted_ to, consequences be damned.

He quickly checked the floor for sharp objects, then swiveled around, ready to bait Giriko with a few more vicious insults.

Instead he had to jump back to avoid getting decked. No further baiting needed - Giriko had just launched himself at him fists first.

The fight was on. Justin managed not to slip, sidestepped a second punch, and then his knuckles were connecting with Giriko's jaw. It smarted, the shock reverberating up his entire arm. But next thing Giriko rammed his shoulder into his chest, and things escalated to a confusing shoving and flailing, Giriko's boozy breath hot on his cheeks, his fists pummeling Justin's gut, arms, ribcage. Amidst the tempest Justin managed to grab a handful of hair. He forcefully pulled Giriko's head back, and headbutted him as hard as he could.

Giriko staggered back, clutching his gushing nose. He spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm, then snarled: "Gonna feast on your guts, you _motherfucker_!"

Justin shot him a giddy grin - his entire torso felt like a huge bruise, and he felt vicariously _alive_. So much better a fight than snide jabs exchanged in velvety voices. " _Nasty boy_ ," he sing-sang. "Knew you were kinky."

That startled a short, bark-like laughter out of Giriko, the sound shockingly familiar. But before Justin could investigate that brief impression Giriko wiped his bloody palm on his jeans, grinned like a hungry wolf and jumped into attack once more.

This time Justin was braced for it, but he barely managed to avoid the powerful roundhouse kick aimed at his ribs. He landed a few punches of his own, knuckles bursting against bone and muscle, then caught Giriko's boot during his next kick in an attempt to pull him off balance. But his opponent used his forward momentum to crush Justin against the brick wall, his knee digging bruisingly in Justin's abdomen. Justin tried to shove him off, gasping for air, with no success - guy had a good thirty pounds on him.

Giriko seized that opportunity to grab his wrists and pin them over his head. Justin's hands smashed against the bricks, scraped knuckles throbbing against the rough, cool surface. He wriggled and tried another headbutt, but Giriko saw it coming and merely leaned out of the way, putting more weight on Justin's guts in retaliation.

"Asphy...xiation kink too, now?..." Justin wheezed.

Giriko's grip on his wrists tightened. The heavy scent of his blood clung to Justin's nostrils like a line of copper-laced coke. "Fuck you, smartass." But his knee dropped, replaced with a warm line of pressure from his thigh.

Hell. With Giriko's eyes so dark and fierce and the heat of his skin seeping through his jeans, how could Justin be held responsible for his actions?

He licked his lips. Tilted his head back so he could look down his nose at Giriko. "Yeah?" he breathed with threadbare defiance. "Think you could handle it?"

Giriko's eyes slowly narrowed. Then he snorted in amusement. "Always gotta have the last word, huh?"

His mouth was very close, smeared with wet red.

Justin couldn't tear his gaze away from it, the sole focal point in a world gone blurry. It felt as if his entire body was pulsing. "Gonna let me?"

"Hm."

Giriko's lips parted to flash white teeth. Then they closed down on Justin's and vision stopped mattering.

Justin hungrily kissed back, struggling against Giriko's grip in an effort to get at him, grab at him, touch him. Their mouths mashed with too much force, but Justin didn't care, rational thought long forgotten, his entire world narrowed down to wet warmth, the metallic taste of blood, the insistent press of lips. Their tongues soon meddled, spit-slick, and it felt right, right, _right_.

Giriko dropped Justin's wrists to cup his face between his big hands, thumbs molding new dimples into Justin's cheeks.

Justin peered between his lashes - now he was free to do what he had wanted since the first time he laid eyes on that guy. Why those dark, primal urges unfurled whenever he was near Giriko he didn't know, didn't care much, either.

He weaved his fingers into Giriko's hair, that tickled the burst skin of his knuckles. Then cruelly yanked.

A muffled noise of pain. A shudder. Then Giriko kissed him with renewed ardor, pushing his entire body flush against Justin's, breathing hard through his mouth since his nose was full of clotted blood.

... Interesting.

Justin let himself be distracted by Giriko's eager tongue and the rasp of his stubble for a while, then experimentally dug his nails deep into his sensitive scalp, yielding similar results - a moan of pain, a full-body shudder, and Giriko shamelessly rutting against his thigh, not even trying to hide how hard that maltreatment got him.

Justin laughed into the kiss. God, but that guy was entertaining. Lacking every bit of finesse Justin usually sought in partners, but the more fun for it.

He relinquished his handful of sandy strands to get his hands busy elsewhere; one kneaded the enjoyably firm flesh of Giriko's ass, the other wormed its ways between the tight clutch of their bodies. There was a groan, steamy against his lips, when he cupped the hot bulge of Giriko's erection.

"What do we have _there_ ," Justin crooned, breaking the kiss, and gave a squeeze. "Someone's into pain play?"

That earned him a malevolent glare, and fingers wrapping around his throat in warning. Justin gulped, arousal flashing down his spine like an electric shock. _Yes_.

"You talk too much," Giriko growled, and reclaimed his mouth.

But despite the posturing he was quick to mimic Justin, blindly pawing at his crotch, then moving on to manhandle his fly open. Strong, rough fingers wrapped around Justin's cock, and he bucked up with a wet gasp, chasing the friction.

Giriko smiled against his mouth and freed him of his boxers properly, starting to jack him off with quick, precise motions, his hand delightfully callused against the delicate skin. Guy knew what he was doing, soon finding _just_ the proper angle and speed to liquefy Justin's knees to jelly. What was he, some sort of cock wizard?

Amidst the haze of raw pleasure Justin felt some annoyance. Dammit, but he was letting that idiot one-up him. Just because he had never fervently made out next to garbage bins, didn't mean he shouldn't be better at it than Giriko.

He caught Giriko's lower lip in a nasty bite, and took advantage of the ensuing moan and falter in rhythm to get his hand down the other's pants. He found hard, hot flesh, and great pleasure in the slutty noise that escaped Giriko's lips when he rubbed.

"You're in a hurry, darling?" he purred, lips trailing wet paths along the hollows of Giriko's throat. The douchebag fur lapels tickled his nose. He discovered a surprisingly tender spot of skin and sucked on it, only interrupting himself to whisper into Giriko's ear: "Shame I don't have my handcuffs, teach you how to behave."

There was a sharp inhale. Then Giriko leaned into him, pushing him back hard against the bricks, his hand resuming its pumping with new resolve.

"You fuckin' tease," Giriko rasped. His left hand sneaked under Justin's jumper, splayed possessive around the jut of his hip. "Don't you ever shut up?"

"You like it," Justin shot back.

He brought his fingers up to spit on them, then started working Giriko's meaty cock, getting him slick with saliva and the beads of precum leaking from the tip. The helpless sound Giriko made when Justin started stroking in earnest was music to his ears.

"Hmm. So reactive."

Then the sensations took over and Justin did indeed shut up.

They fell into one pace, breath quick and hands quicker, getting each other off without any flourish. The warm fingers on Justin's hip squeezed harder, the muscles in his own thighs wound tighter; his nose was full with the spicy smell of Giriko. His entire body was aching, from bruises and for release, and when he came under Giriko's steady pulls it felt like deliverance. He gasped against the other's neck, clinging to his shoulder, muscles quivering in pleasure as he spilled himself into Giriko's fist.

His grip on the other's cock became loose and uncoordinated, and Giriko shook him away with a curse, finishing himself off with a few fast strokes. As much as he tried to contain himself, the moan as he came rung loud in the silent alley, his ragged breathing following like a faulty echo. _Beautiful_ , Justin thought.

They held on to each other for a little while, both a bit unsteady on their feet, breathing in sync. Giriko's thumb stroked a lazy pattern along Justin's waist, and Justin's was mouthing at the lines of Giriko's jaw, earrings cool against his nose, in what could have been a kiss. It was surprisingly peaceful.

This was the social cement civilizations were built upon, Justin dimly realized, the magical get-along medicine that kept people all across the world from tearing each other's throats out. Orgasms.

He sighed, satisfaction settling deep into his bones. If a bed were to magically appear in a near vicinity, he'd be asleep before his head hit the pillow. Whatever tension he might have felt before had been washed away, leaving his mind blank and his body pleasingly loose-limbed and heavy. No career worries would haunt his dreams tonight, that he was sure off.

He tucked himself away, cringing a bit at the sticky feel of it, and placed his hands back on Giriko's shoulders.

Then hooked a heel behind his ankle, and abruptly pushed.

Giriko fell like a tree, landing hard on his back. After a shocked second, he peered up, sprawled in the dirt, flagging dick still exposed to the night air, an air of complete and absolute confusion on his face.

Justin relished the sight for a beat, then yawned: "See you around."

He picked up his coat, and left whistling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should have mentioned that Justin is a real asshole in this story?.. Oops.  
> Pliz comment? <3


	4. Chapter 4

Justin spent his Saturday pressing ice patches to various body parts, eating pizza in bed and watching documentaries about whales. The next day, his bruises had lost their garish eggplant color and he didn't feel as sulky anymore, so he hit the gym, showered and called ChainsawMassacre on Discord for their weekly online date.

It wasn't anything agreed upon, or that Justin would ever call a "date" outside the safety of his own mind; but over the last months they had slipped into that routine consistently enough that failure to enact it left Justin disappointed and off-balance. During the week there was rarely time for more than one or two rounds of the game of the day - but on Sundays they could, and did, game all afternoon if they felt like it; always a welcome reprieve.

ChainsawMassacre answered after just a few rings.

"Yo Justice!" There was some sort of hissing noise in the background, made worse by the dreadful quality of Saw's mic. "Still cooking, you're on speaker on my phone. I can call you back when I'm done if you want."

Justin curled up in his gaming chair, steaming teacup clutched in his hands. "No problem, take your time. What are you having?"

"Uhm, some stir-fry to use up my leftovers, with curry paste tossed in just for the kick of it. Nothing special."

"Sounds good to me. How are you?"

"Yeah, decent I guess." A pot clanked, then more hissing noises that Justin identified as Saw stirring the contents of the pan. "Weird shit happened, but nothing I wanna talk about much. What about you, how was the rest of your week?"

There was something so delightfully domestic about listening to Saw cook. If Justin closed his eyes and ignored the statics distorting the other's voice, he could almost picture himself sitting in the same room, catching up with a good friend amidst food smells.

If that little fantasy got him going, he had allowed himself to become too lonely, an inner voice argued. Hurried hand jobs with strangers weren't adequate replacement for the warmth of a friend's contact. When was the last time he'd hung out with someone he actually liked?

But for now he elected to ignore how the person he felt closest to in the entire world was a guy he'd never met, and enjoy the moment.

"Very mixed review," he said with a half-smile, and took a sip of tea. "On one hand I still haven't managed to get back in my boss's good graces. If anything I've made things worse."

"Brakes, told you," Saw simply answered, startling a little laugh out of Justin. "And on the other hand?"

Justin chewed on his lower lip, hesitant on whether to retell the Giriko event. He hadn't talked about his sex life with Saw so far, in parts because of the tiny - tiny- _ish_ \- crush on him he may harbor; in parts because you never knew for sure if someone wasn't a low-key homophobe. Justin had had enough bad surprises in the past to be prudent when it came to whom he disclosed his sexuality to.

"Three guesses as to what happened," he eventually said, deciding to risk it. If his impressions of Saw were false and the man was actually a bigoted jerk, ripping off that band-aid was long overdue, however painful a realization it might be.

There was the clink of cutlery, then some chewing noises, before Saw suggested, "Your neighbor with the saxophone moved out."

Justin smiled, somehow touched Saw had remembered that throwaway detail. "I wish. No, he's still there, and will be until I find a way to discreetly poison him. Guess again."

Saw hummed in thought. "Uh, you ranked best player in Death Academy."

"Do you even _know_ how many people worldwide play that game," Justin said with a laugh. "I have a job, I can't possibly keep up with all the pro-gamers and full-time streamers. Top fifty is already quite the achievement for DA."

"Yeah yeah, bla bla, you're just a natural," Saw mocked, words muffled by a mouthful of stir-fry. "At least when I'm not around to own your lazy ass."

Justin smirked. "You know you could never beat me on Death Academy, your aim is shit."

"That a challenge?"

Justin grinned at the slightly competitive note in Saw's voice, who rose to every bait without fail. Man, he liked the guy, he really did.

"Maybe later," he eluded. "One guess left."

"Not fair, man, at least gimme a hint," Saw complained.

"Hmm, let me think. No."

"Stop being so smug, you dick," Saw grumped, before snipping excitedly. "Ha, 'dick', that's it! You got laid!"

"Well _done_ ," Justin praised, with cool irony even as his heart was beating faster with nerves. "Surprised it wasn't your first guess."

"You think I'm such a pervert?" Saw laughed, and at Justin's amused 'yes', added, "And you'd be right."

Indeed, Saw commanded an impressive repertoire of very crude, sexual jokes, that got Justin to blush even when he pretended to find them terrible. But then - his hand ghosted over the bruises adorning his ribs - he wasn't exactly vanilla himself.

Then Saw said, "So who's the lucky girl?"

... _Fuck_.

Justin swallowed hard, a sinking feeling like ash in his chest. And here went his hopes that their flirty banter had been perceived as "flirting" by the both of them. He slowly exhaled, lungs tight with weary dread. Why could things never be simple, he inwardly bemoaned. Why did he always have to explain his attraction to everyone crossing his path?

"Wasn't a girl, dude," he said before his resolve could falter, voice so deceptively casual he felt an unexpected flash of pride. "I'm gay."

There was a beat of silence that seemed to stretch to eternity, then Saw simply said, "Ah! Okay, cool."

His tone betrayed nothing but mild surprise, and when he added: "Okay okay. Shouldn't have assumed," sounding neither shocked, nor judgmental, Justin allowed himself to slump in relief. He only now realized how anxious he'd been to disclose that part of himself to his friend, how worried, deep down, that he'd be ill-received.

He gave Saw a few seconds to adjust, then added, just to be sure: "Got a problem with that?"

It came out somewhat sharp, and Saw snorted. "Course not, dumbass." There was the scrap of a fork against ceramic as he finished up his plate; then he went on, voice a bit lowered. "I mean, I'm mostly into chicks myself, but I make some exceptions for hot guys, you know."

Justin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Well, hot is hot," Saw clarified, somewhat defensively, and Justin repressed a laughter. All of those nagging, insidious worries, and in the end Saw wasn't even straight himself, whether he fully admitted to it or not. He felt euphoria bubble up in his chest like fizzy champagne - it didn't matter if his tiny (tiny- _ish_ ) crush wasn't reciprocated, at least he wouldn't lose a friendship because of who he was.

He loudly clapped. "Well," he exclaimed. "Now that it's settled who likes to bang who, how about we go destroy some noobs on _Resonance_?"

The subject change got a relieved chuckle from Saw. "Lemme get a beer and boot up my laptop, and I'm all yours."

"Should I take that literally?" Justin teased, and it felt so good, to be able to joke like this without having to worry about potential homophobia.

Saw laughed in surprise, that bark-like, loud laugh of his. "Now don't get ideas, man. Just because I fuck guys, doesn't mean I'd fuck a Lord Death main. Seriously, I don't get why you stan that character, he got so little going for him in close combat." Then, muttering: "Out of the way, you." There was a tiny meow.

"You just don't know how to play him properly," Justin drawled, resting his chin in his hand. "And you're way beneath my league anyway - have you seen your kill ratio on DA lately? Pathetic."

"Hey, fuck you!"

"I though we just established this was a no-go." A comfortable stance, and one which allowed for the undercurrent of flirt between them to remain innocuous. Or at least allowed them to pretend it was. "How's your cat?"

"It's not _my_ cat, it's _a_ cat," Saw grumped. "And listen for yourself."

Ensued something similar to muffled vacuum cleaner noises. "What am I supposed to hear?" Justin complained. "And can't you get a phone that doesn't make you sound like Robocop?"

Saw huffed. "She's _purring_ , you deaf or what? And I won't buy a new phone while this one still works, so stop bitching."

"You're the bitch."

"Git."

They bantered back and forth as the game started, bantered some more about where to land, what guns to grab, who should drive the escape jeep; and the lighthearted arguing and swearing was so familiar, so peaceful despite the hail of enemy fire, that Justin felt himself deeply relax, all of the knots of tension that had drawn his shoulders tight during the week unwinding. There was no hurry, nowhere to go, no one to put on an act for; just him and Saw and the 98 enemy players they were trying to kill. 95, after Justin landed a few neat head shots in a row. He beamed at his screen, listening to Saw's delighted cheer.

The game lasted for the better part of an hour, the both of them managing to pull off three resonances - a tricky, but powerful combo which required them to hit the same key sequence in absolute synchrony - until Saw's character ran over a well-hidden landmine and Justin got himself killed in an attempt to avenge him.

"That was dumb as shit, J," Saw admonished him as the defeat screen flashed.

"That was _romantic_ ," he corrected, biting his lips at Saw's huff of laughter, warmth tingling in his stomach.

What would it be like to meet him in the flesh, he couldn't help but wonder. Would they get along still?

Or would the synchrony, the effortlessness of their interaction irremediably shatter without the safe buffer of a headset? And in its place... The all-too familiar awkwardness, the feeling of inadequacy, the impatience to be on his own again; those unpleasant emotions Justin had come to associate with other people's company, with a few rare exceptions along the years. God, he didn't want to feel that way with Saw.

He might not. But he might.

Was he willing to risk it?

And anyway, would Saw want it? Shouldn't he have suggested they meet by now, if he appreciated Justin as much as Justin appreciated him?

The thoughts lingered in Justin's mind all afternoon, even as they fought round after round, the strain on his eyeballs and the faint pops of Saw opening himself new beer cans the only markers of the passing time. They never made it past top ten, and when Justin was stabbed by an ambushed enemy out of nowhere Saw finally commented on his less-than-stellar performance.

"Distracted, Justice?" he said without heat, collecting the discarded ammo Justin's character had dropped in death and sprinting to safety. "Head in the game! Stop thinking about your boyfriend's dick, it sucks to finish the round solo."

Justin slumped back into his gaming chair, arms crossed in irritation at having died, _again_. "Not my boyfriend."

He hadn't had one of those in years, had never felt something intense enough to make maintaining a relationship feel worth the effort. His mind flashed towards Tezca, the high-school boyfriend he had dumped without explanation after changing cities for his graduation program. He still owed the poor guy a proper apology.

"Yeah, lover, whatever," Saw eluded, unconcerned. "Obviously getting laid is bad for your reflexes, I'd advise against any further dickings. No cock for you, doctor's order!"

"Dude, language," Justin said with a long-suffering sigh.

Saw laughed. "Language?" On the screen his character tossed a grenade through a doorway, and the count of enemy players lowered to 31. "What, cock? You mind me saying _cock_? The word was cock, right? _Cock_?"

"Why do I even put up with you," Justin said with resigned fondness, rolling his eyes.

"Cause we're both assholes and with me you don't have to pretend otherwise," came the prompt response.

Justin blinked. Put like that, it sounded ... more than accurate. It sounded _true_.

"Surprisingly insightful, coming from you."

Saw's character crawled underneath a truck, and Saw waited for a pair of enemies to pass him by before he spoke on, as if the noise could have given him away. "Ah, well. I just know you I guess."

Justin's face contorted into a puzzled grimace. "Dude, you learned I was gay like two hours ago!"

"So what, that important?" Saw answered distractedly.

"Kinda?!"

There was a dismissive grunt, followed by focused silence as Saw crept up on a sniper and slit his throat. Only 28 more to go.

"Oooh, nice one," Justin commented, vaguely regretting he didn't have popcorn at hand. "Be careful, movement on your left." And then, because now he was curious: "And what are the _important_ things you know about me then?"

Saw took a while to answer, but then he was busy running in zig-zags to avoid getting shot. "Well, I know you love gaming," he eventually said once his character was safely sheltered by a wall.

Justin's gaze slid over his dual LED-screens, his light-up keyboard, his expensive gaming tower. " _Duh_."

"I know you're crazy competitive," Saw went on. "I know you're a sore loser who fucking cheats every chance he gets."

"Hey!" Justin exclaimed, mildly offended.

"C'mon, it's true," Saw chuckled, and Justin pouted, because it was. "I also know you sleep like four hours at night, you weirdo."

"I just don't need much sleep."

"Hm." Saw sounded dubious. On the screen his character settled on the roof of an abandoned building, surveying the surroundings through his sniper's lens. "Sleep is important for your health and shit."

A pleased smile bloomed on Justin's face. "Thanks for your concern."

There was a low answering grumble of "I'm not _concerned_ " and Justin laughed. "Right. What else?"

"Hmm, let me think." A rather long pause ensued as Saw methodically bumped off three players who did the mistake of walking into his line of fire. The count was down to 21 - with his excellent strategic hide-out, there was a reasonable chance Saw would win this round, even if it smarted a bit that Justin wasn't there to help him.

Then he resumed talking. "I know that you main Lord Death, so you were obviously hit by the stupid stick a bit." Before Justin could playfully protest Saw continued his enumeration, voice lowered. "I know that you don't feel attached to anything or anyone. I know that you're lonely but most people bore you. I know that what you think you oughta like and what you actually enjoy doing are two very different things." He paused to toss a grenade from the rooftop. "So yeah, I think I know you pretty well," he gruffly finished.

Justin opened his mouth, then closed it without a sound. He felt exposed, stripped to his core. As vulnerable to Saw's gaze as the character walking cluelessly in front of his rifle. 

_Seen_.

18 players left.

"Oi, still there?" Saw asked after a minute had passed.

It took two attempts for Justin to clear his throat. "Sorry, I just ... I don't know what to say to that."

What did you say when someone's words have brushed your very soul?

Saw hummed, but didn't further comment.

Justin licked his lips, took a sip of long cold tea. Decided to pitch his tone light and joking. "You're more perceptive than I thought. I may have underestimated you."

"Like that first Death Academy game we played? God I completely wrecked your ass."

"You're remembering that very, very wrong," Justin said with a grin, then clamped down on his armchairs when he saw a flicker of movement on the right of the screen. "Oh fuck, duck, _duck_!"

"Shit!"

Too late. Saw's character was pierced by a volley of bullets, his body shaken by the force of the hits. The defeat screen shone, gloomy green.

" _Fuuuuck_ ," Saw hissed, with a violent noise like the slap on a desk. "Dammit! Close!"

"Too bad, man, but you had a really good run," Justin soothed. "Another round? This time I'm sure we can make it top five."

"Nah, man, I'm done for the day." There was a tired grunt, the popping of joints as Saw stretched. "Got an early shift tomorrow."

"Oh." Justin swallowed down his disappointment. "Well, uh. I wish you a good night then." He hesitated, then launched Kishin Hunter, solo mode.

"G'night," Saw said around a yawn. "You should go to bed, too, it's almost 11pm. Get a good night of sleep, a good start in the week."

"Hm, yes, I probably _should_."

An exasperated sigh. "You won't, am I right?"

Justin chuckled. "Good night, Saw," he said, and clicked the Discord connection shut.

*

Three hours later, with his eyes bleary from too much time spent staring at the screen, his mind had slipped off into that peculiar, intense focus he knew from years of late-night gaming and it took him a while to recognize the faint ping as a text alert.

> **From ChainsawMassacre**
> 
> _gtf to sleep!_

Justin helplessly grinned at his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it <3 please tell me if you did!


	5. Chapter 5

The woman let out a muffled sob.

"Me? Doing _that_... To my own baby? I've never felt more insulted ... more _besmeared_!"

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with a delicate sniff, snake tattoos rippling around her wrists.

Crying at will, too? Oh, she was good. But there was that slight, telltale clenching and unclenching of her right hand, visible despite the grainy quality of the recording. Justin thoughtfully squinted.

"She dissolved the body in acid, that's why you never found it," he eventually told the interrogator on the screen, then flipped open the old file to check if his intuition was right. And ... bingo! A few months later the police had managed to connect Mrs. Gorgon to the murder of her own child, and discovered some empty acid containers in a dump near her house. She had managed to flee the country at this point, though. Someone had seen her in Argentina, two years ago.

Shaking his head at those sentimental cops fooled by tears - and deep cleavages, probably -, Justin ejected the recording of the interrogatory, and put it back with the rest of the long-closed file. He sneezed while storing away the box - a thin layer of dust covered the entire archive room, no matter how much he cleaned.

Justin hated the dust. He hated this windowless office in the basement where he now worked, hated to first hear about interesting murder cases when his colleagues gossiped about it around the coffee machine, he hated that this was his life now. It felt as if he was exiled in another time, forever out of sync with the rest of the precinct.

And there was so little to _do_. Only rarely could he do something meaningful like helping other detectives find relevant documents - more often than not he alternated between digitizing files, and reading random Wikipedia articles.

He was shuffling through case files from two decades prior, looking for a new brain-tease with which to defeat the boredom, when someone discreetly rapped their knuckles against the open door. "Law?"

He beamed up. "Nygus!"

"Hey Justin. Coffee?" Twin cups steamed in her hands.

"Yes, please," he said, taking hold of a cup as she sat on the corner of his desk. "Please tell me you're here to put an end to this nightmare?"

Nygus rolled her eyes. "No."

Justin dramatically sighed, and drooped, sprawling across his desk like a dejected puppet. "Shoot! My kingdom for a case," he lamented.

Nygus' mouth thinned. She took a sip of coffee, subjecting Justin to a long, considering glance - when she started talking her voice was firm. "You got no one to blame but yourself that you're still down here instead of solving exciting murders, J."

He looked up. "Beg your pardon?"

"You heard me."

Justin bristled. "How am I at fault here." He pushed himself up, hands balling to tight fists. "If Stein simply reconsidered..."

"Oh, _please_ ," Nygus scoffed. "Do you still think this is about Stein, rather than the utter bullshit you pulled?" She cut across his protestations, voice hard. "Justin, I want you to take a good, hard look at your actions for one _damn_ minute and tell me: is this the kind of attitude you'd want an officer of the law to hold?"

He instinctively opened up his mouth to counter; then, because this was Nygus, because she had taught him half he knew and because she was, at heart, a really good cop, he resentfully stayed silent and gave the entire ordeal some thought.

Yes, so he had managed to catch Nakatsukasa without any back-up. And it had been a flawless arrest, events unfurling exactly according to Justin's plan. But he shouldn't let this blind him to the fact that they might as well have not. What if he had been killed while, caught in the urgency of the situation, he hadn't shared his guess on the next victim and the criminal's location?

One cop down. Nakatsukasa still at large. The entire squad distraught.

He let the ramifications of those potential consequences sink down for a while. It might have been a tragedy instead of that frank success, all because Justin had forgotten an old, but crucial axiom of police work: _you didn't gamble with lives_. Be it his own.

No wonder, then, that Stein had shown him up so thoroughly, never mind how distasteful that experience had been.

Nygus was patiently drinking her coffee, one leg dangling back and forth.

"No," Justin finally admitted, the syllable catching in his throat like a bad cough. His reluctance must be showing, because Nygus sighed softly.

"Look, Justin," she said, her face filled with earnest sympathy, and he was grateful, for a minute, that she had been assigned as his mentor. "I know you haven't arrived where you are by letting other people dictate you how to act. You're proud, and confident in your own judgment, and I respect that about you, that you don't let anyone give you shit."

The subject of his sexuality hung in the air, unspoken. She knew, of course - there had been some assholes, back during academy, who had been quick to use this alleged 'weakness' to try to take the prodigy student down a few notches. That had, however, backfired in spectacular fashion.

"But sometimes," Nygus went on, "You just have to accept you fucked up, and _move on_. You're not compromising your integrity or your dignity by listening to other people, OK? Especially when they care about you."

That turned his half-hearted smile into a more sincere one, and he took hold of her hand, gave a light squeeze. "Thanks, Nygus."

Instead of answering she ruffled his hair, and chuckled to herself when Justin groaned and pulled a little comb out of his drawer.

"I should probably apologize to the commander," he said quietly while fixing his hair.

"Yes you really should," Nygus confirmed. "What happened to your hands, by the way?"

Justin shot a look at his scabs-covered knuckles, and shrugged innocently. Nygus rolled her eyes once more. Then she crumpled up her empty cup, did an impeccable toss into the bin on the other side of the room, and was halfway out the door before Justin finally remembered to be polite and ask her how she was. Why did he suck so much at social interaction, he inwardly deplored, even as she happily told him about her new house in the suburbs and the plans she had to build a barn. He promised to drop by whenever she needed help, be it to hold the ladder since he had never so much as drilled a hole in his life.

He was idly wondering if this might be a good opportunity to ask ChainsawMassacre to come along - he had mentioned a knack for manual work - when Nygus snipped with an expression of surprise.

"Oh, but actually I came down here for a reason, I completely forgot!" she exclaimed, adding at Justin's curious hum: "There's an angry weirdo waiting upstairs, he wanted to talk to you."

Justin blinked, befuddled. "To talk to me?"

"Well, he said he wanted to see, and I quote, _the blond douchebag with a stick up his ass_ , so I assumed he meant you."

"Very flattering, Nygus, thank you," Justin replied with a frown. "What's his name?"

Nygus grimaced. "Uh, I didn't catch it but he's quite noticeable - tall guy with lots of piercings, shitty hairdo..."

"Alright, I know who that is," Justin sighed, calmly even as a current of thrill ran through him. What the hell was _he_ doing here? "Send him down."

Nygus shot him a concerned glance. "You're sure? He looked like he wanted to chew someone's head off."

"He barks worse than he bites," Justin shrugged. And Justin had ended up doing most of the biting last time, anyway...

Nygus laughed and took her leave, and he was left to wait, wondering why the man he had violently made out with was coming to visit at the precinct of all places. The purple spots on his ribs hadn't even completely faded yet - did that guy seriously want a re-run?

And would Justin be so inclined? His fingers were beating a nervous rhythm on his thigh, seemingly of their own accord, while his mind flashed him stray impressions from last week-end like he was browsing through an erotic flip-book. Giriko's breath hot against his lips. His broad palm engulfing Justin's hip. His helpless moans ...

ChainsawMassacre's laughter.

Justin froze.

Why the hell was he thinking of Saw now? Did he feel guilty, in some fashion, for having sexual thoughts about another man, now that he had outed himself to his online crush? It wasn't like he owed Saw anything. Or like Saw felt the same about him. Did Justin even fall into that supposed category of 'hot guys' he made 'exceptions' for?

Still, the thought of Saw made him squirm in unease while he waited for Giriko to show up.

And waited, and waited. Almost fifteen minutes had passed before Giriko, sporting a hideous t-shirt with Chinese dragons on it, popped up at the door, a wild look on his face. "Finally, there you are!" he exclaimed.

Justin raised a puzzled eyebrow. "Got lost?"

To his surprise, Giriko blushed a bit. "That place's a fucking maze!" he called, indignant.

Justin had a second to admire the embarrassed color on the other's cheeks before he shook himself, running a hand through his messy hair.

He stepped into Justin's office, his slightly panicky expression replaced by determined displeasure, and - wow. In the confined, low-ceiled archive room it became much more obvious how physically imposing that man was, how much sheer _space_ he claimed - it seemed as if the room had shrunken down, barely holding enough air for the two of them anymore. Justin swallowed, his placid smile plaster-like on his features.

Then Giriko slammed down a sheet of paper in front of his nose, so hard the desk rattled. "Mind telling me what the _fuck_ this was doing in my mailbox?!"

Justin picked up the slightly crumpled sheet of paper between two fingers, trying to ignore the waft of spicy, manly smell that had just hit his nose. To his surprise, he recognized it as the complaint he had typed down just after his first confrontation with Giriko, several weeks prior. He checked the date.

"This got sent to you over a month ago," he told Giriko, looking up to meet his angry gaze. Up close his irises were hazel like those of a large wildcat, flecks of gray mixed into the light brown color - Justin struggled to focus. "The fine is long overdue."

Giriko dismissed that statement with an impatient hand wave. "I don't check my mail that often, and I did nothing to merit a fuckin' _fine_! What the hell does this shit even mean?"

Justin made a point of carefully reading the letter again. Oh, his phrasing was particularly vicious and flowery in this one - he had been in a terrible mood because of his demotion, he now remembered.

"Well, this letter appears crystal clear to me," he said, trying to muster the cool, arrogant tone he usually wielded around Giriko. But today he struggled to summon it up, far too aware of the heat of the other's body, not an arm's length away. He could touch him without even standing up. "What, exactly, are you complaining about?"

Giriko made an angry sound. "Well the entire thing!" he said heatedly, gesturing at the letter, his hand almost swatting Justin's nose. "Says here I'm accused of ... fencing of stolen goods, of bribing an officer, what the fuck!"

Justin leaned back in his desk chair, and chewed on his cheeks before he said, tone measured: "Well, it is what happened, isn't it." He licked his lips, wondering whether he should smirk a bit.

It was tempting to fall back into that pattern of exchange, to needle and tease Giriko so he'd careen right over the edge and into that yawning abyss of animal drive that lay beyond. So damn tempting.

From the look on Giriko's face he was halfway there already.

"What the fuck," he spat. "I never took any money, we didn't make a deal, you've got no fucking proof!"

Justin tilted his head, brought a thumb up to rest on his chin. "Do I need any?"

He was answering, reacting on autopilot - beneath his cold composure he was boiling, Giriko's proximity sending some dangerous, visceral part of him into overdrive. Keeping his breathing smooth and regular despite his hammering heart felt incredibly difficult.

What was he doing, trying to provoke that guy, a rational part of him screamed. This was all so very unlike him, him who relished control, certainties. What was it about Giriko that brought out that level of intensity in him? It was almost frightening, the way he felt, like he had succumbed to some searing, exotic disease.

Oblivious to his internal struggles, Giriko smacked the table with the flat of his hand, baring his teeth. "Bullshit! Your word ain't enough proof," he snarled. "I can just tell them I flirted with you and you were being a bitch, how's that gonna look then?"

"Then it'd be your word against mine, I guess," Justin said, continuing to run by the obnoxious script he had assigned himself. The tendons on Giriko's neck were already standing out. Any second now he would play his part in their game, reliable as a clockwork, and flip out ... lunge at Justin ...

The look of betrayed outrage that appeared on his face instead was entirely unexpected.

"You're such a fuckin'..." Giriko sputtered, taking a step back, as if merely breathing the same air as Justin was intolerable. "That's fuckin'... power abuse! If you took your head outta your ass you'd see it. Did I steal anything? Fuck!"

He ran his hand through his hair again, shaking his head in disbelief, and Justin felt an unexpected pang of guilt.

_Is this the kind of attitude you'd want an officer of the law to hold?_

He was doing it again. Letting his assumptions cloud his judgment. He had taken one look at Giriko, decided he was a thug, and judged him on crimes supposed as much as on actual behavior from then on. Decided that man was a bad person, so he could act on his base impulses around him - could indulge that sadistic, playful part of himself.

That was unprofessional. And plain ... wrong, if he faced the truth.

Nygus'd be so disappointed if she knew.

He sighed, and closed his eyes for a second, finding comfort in the darkness behind his eyelids. He willed down the part of him that wanted to keep pestering Giriko until the guy's fiery temper broke free, satisfying Justin's cravings.

And firmly said, "You're right," turning to his computer.

Silence. Then a very confused: "What?"

"You're right," Justin repeated without looking up, clicking his way through files. "The punishment is disproportionate in regards to the offense." He found the document he was looking for and started typing. "I was in a bad mood when I filed that complaint and I let it influence my judgment. That wasn't fair on you, there was no need for more than a warning."

He risked a quick look at Giriko, who was standing there dumbstruck, and allowed himself a faint smile at his stupid expression, and at the petulant, "Yeah, well, that's what I was saying!" that eventually followed.

"Absolutely," he agreed. "Give me a minute, if you please." He typed on his computer for a while, Giriko's shuffling feet the only sound disturbing the quiet. Soon he finished modifying the file, and hit print. The document now attested the fine's cancellation, and the description of the events had been rephrased to sound more neutral.

"There we go," he said, grabbing the freshly printed paper, and shaking it so it'd dry. "With my apologies. All forgotten, no trace that incident ever happened." He handed the page over to Giriko, who read it with a focused frown.

"So..." the man said after a moment. "Do I get this right. You're admitting you were wrong? _You?_ "

His eyes bore into Justin's, who felt himself blush. Did he really come across at that self-opinionated?

"Is that so surprising?"

Giriko huffed a laughter, eyebrows raised. "Uh, _duh?!_ "

He shook his head with an expression that could almost pass as affectionate, and Justin, mortified, felt his cheeks heat up some more.

"Fuckin' nutcase," Giriko muttered with an eye roll. "Also I want a stamp or some official shit, to prove you're not lying." He demandingly held out the document.

"Trust abounds," Justin dryly said, trying to recover some level of protective sass, but took the page without protest and neatly signed and stamped it. Giriko gave the document another once-over, then nodded, satisfied, before stuffing it into his back pocket, irreparably crinkling it in the process. Justin's eyelid twitched.

"Well," he said with a deep breath. "We're done here, I think." Despite his steady voice, his palms felt sweaty were they clutched his armrests.

Giriko considered him for a while. "You know, when you're not busy being a massive dick you're not that awful," he mused. His gaze lingered on Justin's lips, whose heart started racing, a hamster in a wheel.

"Glad to hear that."

The corner of Giriko's mouth tilted up. Then he turned away, his steps towards the door halting, as if there was something holding him back - something that needed to be said. Justin's gut clenched in a sudden bout of nerves, and before he could chicken out he cleared his throat.

"Uh, so, about the other night ..."

Giriko froze, one hand on the door, his broad shoulders tense underneath the garish dragon t-shirt. Justin swallowed, feeling supremely awkward. But it was now or never.

"Sorry for, uh," he started clumsily, "For shoving you in the dirt after, after getting you off. I'm. Uh. I'm sorry."

He started studying his cuticles with great focus. Now was where he’d be ignored and he’d be abandoned to repent his sins, he guessed.

But instead of heavy footsteps stomping away, there was a snort, and Giriko's raspy voice saying with some amusement, "Second time you've apologized to me today. Must be a new personal record, huh?" He went on, voice lowered: "And yeah, that was a real low blow. Real shitty finish."

Justin looked up and caught sight of Giriko's profile. The metal beads pierced through his brow were gleaming silver in the neon light. He seemed to be pondering, one hand fiddling with his necklace chain.

Then he half-turned towards Justin, without meeting his gaze. "Rest wasn't half -bad, though," he added, almost shyly.

Justin was unsure for a moment if he had heard correctly. He blinked. Swallowed hard.

"Do you ..." he rasped, and swallowed again. Giriko moved to completely face him, looking at him with intense eyes, and Justin felt as if he was loosing his footing, reality rocking around him like a boat in a tempest. "Do you mean that ..."

Giriko's gaze seemed to grow hotter, his pupils blown up, coupled to Justin's like a magnetic lock. He slowly, slowly nodded, and ... _Oh_.

Seemed Justin wasn't the only aroused one here.

There was a rushing sound like a rogue freight train in his ears, electricity under his skin - he nodded back.

Everything went fast from there. Giriko made an aborted, jerky motion forwards, and Justin straightened in his desk chair, stopping midway through standing up - they stared at each other a couple more seconds, then Giriko kicked the door shut and rushed towards Justin, who had already jumped up, sending his chair toppling down - and then they reached for each other with greedy hands and their mouths locked across the desk.

To his shame, Justin whimpered - a needy little sound he didn't even knew he could make. But then it was so _good_ , felt so _perfect_ , Giriko's lips hot against his and his large hands squeezing his neck, his back, everything they could reach, and the edge of the desk digging bruisingly into Justin's thighs could belong to another plane of existence for all he cared. They kissed furiously, and Justin didn't spare a thought towards being in his office, in the middle of the precinct during work hours, because he was smelling Giriko's smell and tasting Giriko's tongue, and certainly nothing existed that'd require his attention more.

There was too much distance between their bodies still and he threw one knee over the desk in an effort to get closer, sending a hail of pens clattering down. Coming to the same conclusion, Giriko wrapped one arm around Justin's waist, gripped the back of his belt... - and bodily lifted him up. After a clumsy scramble across the desk Justin was manhandled into sitting with Giriko's hips trapped between his thighs, more than a little turned on. That guy was _strong_ , the nice muscles apparently not there just for show. It made the vulnerable softness of his lips that more thrilling, and Justin nibbled on them, gently for once, relishing the stutters in Giriko's breath he got as a result.

 _Oof_. They kissed and kissed, hands roaming each other's bodies, pressed together so tightly they were probably splitting atoms. Giriko was so warm and firm against him, the skin of his back downy-soft when one of Justin's hands ventured underneath his shirt; and his lips, the laps of his tongue, the passion with which he kissed left Justin short-breathed and dizzy.

"Fuck." Giriko paused the kiss in order to mouth at Justin's neck. "What the fuck are we even doing," he mumbled against his skin, and inhaled deeply, sniffing at him like a dog.

"I don't know," Justin gasped, tangling a hand in sandy hair. "Don't care." A shiver ran down his spine when Giriko lightly bit down on his throat, but he still managed to ask, "Do you?"

There was a hoarse laughter, and hands squeezing his waist, hard. " _Fuck no_ ," Giriko said with feeling, causing Justin to chuckle. "You're crazy, but you're also crazy hot."

"Speaking of hot ..." Justin imperiously tugged the dragon shirt upwards. "Lose this, it hurts my eyes."

Giriko obliged with an eye roll, tossing the shirt over his shoulder - his pecs rippled with the motion, and Justin ran an appreciative hand over his abs, hard underneath a soft layer of chub.

"Huh. Got some things going for you, it seems."

There was hunger in Giriko's eyes as he grinned. "Yeah?"

His voice was hitting its lower register, and Justin's breathing sped up. "Yeah."

Then Giriko was on him again, kissing him voraciously, tilting Justin further and further back until his shoulder blades hit the desk with a clunk and a stray eraser dug into his lower back. Their tongues tangled, a saliva thread connecting their mouths when Giriko pulled back a bit to catch his breath, his bare chest heaving.

"Want you," Justin whispered, and Giriko actually squeezed his eyes shut for a second, his grip on Justin's shoulder painfully tight. When he opened his eyes again there was new resolve in his gaze. He kissed Justin one last time, then slid down his body, dropping to one knee and settling between his thighs. He pushed up the edge of Justin's button-down, running his mouth on the skin beneath his navel, then got started on his belt. Justin propped himself up on his elbows to have a better look, jittery with want.

"Wait, are you going to ..." he started, but stopped when Giriko shot him a look that dared him to comment, a slight blush to his cheeks. Justin repressed a giddy grin. "Alright, go ahead."

He lifted his hips so Giriko could tug his jeans out of the way, and then had to bite his fist in order not to keen when Giriko planted an open-mouthed kiss on his cock through his boxer shorts, his warm breath moistening the fabric. He could feel himself growing rock hard.

"Who's reactive now," Giriko said. Despite his challenging tone, his face was very red, and past the immediate surge of pleasure Justin felt puzzled by that sudden bashfulness - Giriko hadn't struck him as a coy person so far. The mystery was soon lifted as Giriko freed Justin's erect cock from his boxers and plunged down to take it in his mouth. The attempt, for all its eagerness, was also very clumsy - painfully so.

He hissed, causing Giriko to freeze. It was obvious he had no experience at going down on guys, and he looked so startled that Justin felt the sudden urge to soothingly stroke his shoulder. He repressed it just in time. Still he was very gentle when he said, "It's OK, it's OK, just ... be careful with your teeth, will you?"

Giriko drew back with a wet plop. "Don't fuckin' _patronize_ me," he growled, eyes flashing.

"Well learn how to properly give head then," Justin shot back. It belatedly occurred to him that annoying the guy with an irascible temper and a hand around his dick wasn't the best of ideas, but the jibe had a beneficial payback: Giriko seemed to forget about feeling self-conscious in favor of wanting to prove Justin wrong.

With a final glare, he dived down again, the slide of his mouth along Justin's shaft far smoother this time round - and thankfully devoid of teeth contact. A low moan escaped Justin's lips, and Giriko appeared to gain confidence, his head bobbing up and down with more speed if not skill. Justin hesitated, then placed a hand on Giriko's nape, exerting light pressure - after a second of initial resistance Giriko allowed Justin to guide his pace and the angle of his head, and the sensations on Justin's cock grew more and more pleasant.

"Use your tongue a bit," he murmured. Giriko obeyed with a focused frown, pressing the flat of his tongue against Justin's cock, and he sighed in contentment. "Yeah, like that, great."

He was starting to breathe hard, and Giriko shot him an awfully smug glance. Justin felt compelled to relativize his last statement.

"I mean, not _great_ -great," he said, swallowing back a moan. "But ... _Ah_... Not bad -" Giriko gave a hard suck and he momentarily lost track of his own words - "Not bad, for a beginner," he managed to finish.

Giriko withdrew so he could frown at Justin better. "Shut the fuck up," he growled. His thin lips were puffy, shiny with spit - Justin ran an appreciative thumb over them and got bitten in the process.

"Ouch!" he complained. And then again, as Giriko turned his head and sank his teeth deep in Justin's thigh: " _Ouch!_ Sadist!"

"What," Giriko mumbled against his skin, wet lips an exquisite contrast to the throbbing pain of the bite. "Can't take a little rough treatment, you need me to play _nice?_ "

He managed to make that last word sound incredibly insulting; Justin refused to be impressed. Instead he grabbed a handful of Giriko's hair, and hoisted him up on his feet so he could lean forward and boldly whisper in his ear:

"No, mainly I need you to _fuck_ me."

Which, as far as ideas went, was probably all kind of terrible, but the need he felt knew no postponing.

He wasn't sure if he should feel flattered or worried by the crazed stare he got in answer. "You better not be kidding," Giriko rasped. He grabbed Justin's hand and firmly pressed it against the hard bulge in his pants. "Cause if this is your idea of a joke I'll be _very_ pissed."

Justin stroked him through his jeans, feeling anticipation rise. Oh, but he wanted that dick inside him, he really did. "Doesn't feel like a joke to me."

Giriko pressed a few insistent, impatient pecks to his lips, rocking into his hold, until Justin leaned back to open a drawer to retrieve a tube of lubricant. The other gaped.

"You have lube in your desk? What are you _up to_ down here?"

To his dismay, Justin felt himself blush furiously. "That's none of your business!"

Giriko shot him a knowing grin. "Glad to see you're making the best out of my tax money," he said, then kissed him again, long enough to completely steal his breath away. His grip on Justin's shoulders was only short of bruising, and he paused to whisper, quiet like a confession: "Fuck, you're messing with my head something bad. Can't even think straight."

Justin couldn't say he was much better off - he felt dizzy, trembling with desire, skin glowing with heat. "Got a condom?"

"Yeah, hold on a sec -"

They quickly sorted themselves out, the _zip_ of Giriko's fly shockingly loud in the quiet room, and soon Justin was bent over the desk with the blunt head of Giriko's cock pressed against his ass.

"Oh shit," he coughed when Giriko started pushing in. It had been a while, and the familiar mix of discomfort and pleasure took him by surprise in its intensity.

"This OK?" Giriko checked, voice so strained it was barely recognizable. "I'll go slow."

Justin nodded, bracing himself on the edge of the desk to avoid squashing his own erection against the unforgiving wood. "Yeah, keep on, keep on."

After a few excruciating moments of that pain-pleasure Giriko was all the way inside him, and he felt full, so full he might burst - he moaned, overwhelmed. Often he tended to space out during sex, but right now he felt _there_ , present and alive and grounded in a new and thrilling way.

Giriko pressed a sloppy kiss to his neck, rested his forehead on Justin's shoulder and started moving, slowly as announced. Judging by the tension in his limbs he was putting tremendous effort into restraining himself - something that certainly wasn't natural for that hot-headed idiot, and made Justin's stomach warm up with unwonted fondness. He brought a hand up to weave his fingers in the other's hair and arched his back, relishing the resulting whimper.

"You're quite decent at this," he panted. "Room for improvement, obviously, but not amateur-ish, either."

The arm snaked around his torso tightened its hold. "You little shit," Giriko purred in his ear. "Are you trying to make me lose my cool?" His hips snapped forward, causing Justin to gasp.

"It isn't a, _ah!_ A difficult feat." It was hard to maintain his aloof sarcasm while getting pounded, but the irritated growl against his shoulder made it worth it. He allowed himself a satisfied grin, then, as Giriko increased the pace, let the sensations wash over him for several minutes of bliss - the pleasant burn of friction, Giriko's ragged breathing, the heat pooling in his groin ...

The ringing of the phone.

"Oh come _on_!" Justin muttered in annoyance, while behind him Giriko's movements and panting slowed down. Justin held up a finger.

"Be still for a minute, please."

"You're not gonna answer that." There was alarm in Giriko's tone, but Justin made a little shushing gesture and stretched across the desk to pick up the phone, ignoring the other's indignant curses.

"Agent Justin Law, how can I help you?" he said into the speaker, cool as a cucumber.

The sergeant's gruff voice rung uncomfortably close to his ear. "Hey Law, it's Barrett! I need the old files from the Flying Dutchman case, October of last year, could you bring them over?"

Justin cast a glance over his shoulder at Giriko, who was getting very red in an attempt to keep still. "Sure thing, sarge," he answered with a lopsided smile. "Give me five minutes."

"Great, thank you!" Sid said. "Shame you're stuck on menial tasks - that's not the kind of man you are. You must be very bored!"

Justin suppressed a laughter. "I try and keep busy."

"Well, good. See you!" Sid said, and hung up.

Justin discarded the phone, then patted Giriko's arm. "We can proceed." Then, when this utterance was met with stunned silence and no further fucking: "What?"

He looked at Giriko, whose mouth hung open in an unflattering fashion. "You're just ..." he sputtered. Then shook his head with a sigh both defeated and amused. "Unbelievable, is what you are." He resumed the regular thrusts of his hips, muttering _"un-fucking-believable"_ under his breath. A few droplets of sweat fell from his forehead and splashed on Justin's shirt.

"Well I, _ah_ , couldn't just leave it ringing!" Justin protested, then whined as Giriko angled differently and hit his prostate harder. "Oh fuck, _yes_."

Giriko firmly bit his nape. "You really could, you bastard," he growled, but without much heat. "Also, just five minutes? I should feel offended, gimme some credit."

Justin laughed, surprised. "Render unto Caesar -" he began, but then Giriko picked up the pace and for the following minutes he surrendered to the wave of pleasure rather than further trying to be witty. He started jerking himself off, too, desperately needing some contact on his painfully hard cock. He was feeling overheated, the fabric of his shirt clinging to his back, the relentless pressure inside him so intense he could focus on nothing else.

"Fuck, you feel way too good," Giriko panted against his neck. "I think I'm close."

Justin's pulls on his cock grew quicker. "Me, too." His shaky legs didn't feel quite right, and he feared for a second they'd cease to support his weight - but then Giriko was holding him up, anyway, a thought more comforting than it had any right to be.

There was a whisper: "Look at me."

Justin twisted awkwardly in order to see Giriko better. His face was slack with want, hair strands glued to his sweaty forehead, hazel eyes dazed - he leaned forward in an attempt to reach Justin's mouth. The kiss was surprisingly sweet, and Justin felt himself melting into it, relaxing even as Giriko, moaning against his lips, pounded into him so forcefully the entire desk slid back an inch. Feeling Giriko's thrusts grow jerky, he finished himself off, too, and came on the desk a few seconds after Giriko stilled, his orgasm setting his mind ablaze with bright pleasure. His hand limply fell to his side.

After a few moments, Giriko rolled off with a sigh, heavily sitting down on the desk, and tugged Justin so he half-sat on his lap, arms loosely draped around his waist. Justin, groggy, noted with vague surprise it felt a lot like an embrace. But it didn't feel like something to complain about, either. He closed his eyes, resting his head against Giriko's cheek, breath slowing down.

"How's your nose, by the way?" he asked after a moment. He opened one eye to squint at it - it was still a bit swollen, just beneath the metal strip.

Giriko shrugged. "You didn't break it, so it's alright." He sounded drowsy.

"Cool."

They sat in silence, leaning into each other. Justin could hear Giriko's heartbeat, pounding against his chest. It felt like a bubble out of time, as if the world upstairs had ceased existing, deleted by a careless god so only the two of them remained. Then the illusion faded, and Justin sighed. "I should really get those files to my boss."

Giriko's reaction was a very grouchy noise, which had Justin feel a rush of affection so strong and sudden it left him confused. He shoved it back down - that feeling was worthy to be examined in detail, but now wasn't the time. He gingerly stood up on knees that were still a bit wobbly, and pulled his pants back up. He retrieved the dragon shirt and handed it to Giriko.

"You'll see yourself out?"

"Hm."

For someone who just had frankly amazing sex - at least on Justin's end - Giriko was looking quite sullen. He turned away to dress himself, the muscles in his back tense. For some reason, it bothered Justin.

"Hey," he said on an impulse. "Look at me."

Giriko reluctantly met his gaze.

Justin watched him for a moment, then cupped his neck and drew him closer for a lingering kiss, trying to convey a feeling he wasn't sure he could name himself. When he stepped back, Giriko was staring at him helplessly, lips parted, hands stiff at his side.

What the hell had he gotten himself worked up over? But Justin had no time to spare to try and find out what this was about. He patted Giriko's biceps, shot him an awkward smile, and dashed towards the door.

"Got to run," he called over his shoulder. "Don't touch anything, but ... maybe leave me your number?"

Giriko gave a single nod and Justin winked at him before making his exit, a jump in his step. He felt euphoric, filled with childish glee - sex both improper and extremely hot, and the perspective of more to come? Maybe if he was quick enough Giriko'd still be there and up for round two when he came back.

But twenty minutes later, the office was empty and a number nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is 50% dialogues i'm so sorry


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a (un)healthy dose of internalized homophobia (yeah, it's from Giriko).  
> Also, I don't share Justin's taste in earrings.

The lumps of flour bobbed about in the batter like miniature icebergs. Justin gave another hesitant stir with his wooden spoon, frowning. He had respected the recipe's instructions to the letter yet still the lumps wouldn't dissolve like they were supposed to.

Well, it would have to do. His stomach rumbled and the ready-made lasagna in his freezer was gaining more appeal by the second. The oil should be hot enough too, now, so he poured a ladle of batter into the pan, cringing when some of it splattered onto the immaculate ceramic surface.

He never knew cooking was so _messy_. There was flour on his floor, in his hair and droplets of batter on the window pane. And the hot grease smelt gross. It felt so ... archaic a method of sustenance.

He sighed, critically eying the batter that didn't seem to gain color like it should. He turned up the heat, just in case. Did he use enough oil?

Maybe he should have started smaller, he pondered. Pasta, or another dish impossible to screw up. But his craving for pancakes was what had urged him to break the routine, to do something differently for once, so pancakes it would be. He was a grown man, expert in his field - learning how to cook shouldn't register as a daunting endeavor, right?

He was growing bored of watching the pancake fry, so he launched a video of his favorite streamers, the Brooklyn Devils. The duo was playing _Resonance_ today, Patty firing round after round of ammo at their opponents while her sister drove the jeep, and Justin felt a pang of envy as he listened to their manic laughter.

The reason he had so much free time to spend on cooking experiments was ChainsawMassacre, who had turned him down for gaming a few times in a row, and even canceled two of their usual Sunday sessions. It had been almost three weeks since their last game together, and solo gaming held no appeal when Justin was constantly on the qui vive for a call, a Discord text alert, some sign of life.

Justin was left wondering if he had done something wrong. Saw had never been much of a texter, but his late, monosyllabic answers to Justin's texts came across as particularly cold and dismissive as of late. A few days he hadn't turned on his phone at all - a first in the eight or so months in which they'd chatted. It had been some very lonely weeks, Justin only now realizing how much interacting with Saw had shaped and brightened his days since they met.

With such a minimal exchange he had found neither the right opportunity, nor the courage to ask Saw to help him patch up Nygus' barn. Even though it was still up in the stars, he was slowly growing impatient for that real-life meeting, replaying different scenarios of their imaginary encounter over and over in his mind.

In his fantasy Saw looked a lot like Eibon, a character he enjoyed playing on Death Academy, and the barn provided a charmingly bucolic backdrop - in complete disregard to the fact that it stood in Death City's suburbs and not some wheat field in Arkansas. In the daydream the both of them were feeling at ease together from the get-go, Saw teaching Justin how to use an electric drill or how to install fuses, his large, tan hands covering Justin's, his statics-ridden voice warm in his ear; and then they would goof around, laugh, and maybe when Justin would delicately remove some straw caught up in Saw's (curly? black? red?) hair, it would end up in a tender kiss ...

Stupid sappy daydreams, all of it, and he was a bit ashamed to have someone star in them who was first and foremost a friend, and had never asked for Justin's unrequited infatuation. It was ridiculous - his teenage days were long past, and he should now better than to project so hard onto another person. Still, he couldn't help but hope. Now if only Saw would write back ...

Had he had Giriko's number he would have called him up for another fuck, just to release some of that impatient tension; but apparently the other hadn't been interested in becoming his booty call. Too bad. Justin had valiantly resisted the temptation to find Giriko's address in his file, or to nose around in his past misdeeds - Justin's complaint hadn't been his first criminal record, by far. But it was none of Justin's business, especially considering his interest for Giriko was far from professional.

Maybe it was best to leave it at those three encounters, before they could fall into patterns that were hard to reverse. Giriko was fun, sure, even endearing in his own weird way, and the ... _thing_ they had was stunningly intense - but he could never be a proper fixture in Justin's life, could he? One merely needed to take an objective look at the both of them - they were far too different for that to ever work, for Justin to even waste time considering it. He should focus on making meaningful connections with people, and how vicariously he had responded to Giriko on a sexual level didn't replace true, _serious_ romantic attraction, did it? Just a matter of, yes, of realism. He was much better off without that dead-end of a phone number.

An acrid stench tore him out of his musings. He hastily turned off the heat, tried to fish the pancake out of the pan by hand, burnt himself, cursed, then used a fork to dump it on a plate.

He eyed it. Charred on the underside, a pale yellow on the top. At least it was round. Ish.

Out of habit, he shot a picture of his plate one-handed, suckling on his burnt fingers, labeled it _"???"_ and sent it to ChainsawMassacre over Discord. He wasn't expecting an answer, and moved to throw open the window so some of the smoke could clear.

But then his phone pinged, and his heart did a rabbity little jump when he saw who sent the text.

> **From ChainsawMassacre**
> 
> _wtf is that_

Charming as always, but at least he was answering this time. Justin eagerly texted back, scattering greasy fingerprints on the screen:

> **From justice4242**
> 
> _it's a pancake >:( How are you? _

He found a knife and struggled against the black crust, but was deterred from taking a bite by another ping of his phone.

> **From ChainsawMassacre**
> 
> _since when u cook_

Two questions in a row now? My, that was more exchange than they'd had in a week.

> **From justice4242**
> 
> _sometimes you have to try new things you know. Evolve_

He'd have to do a bit more evolving, it seemed, because he almost spat out the bite he took. Gross.

> **From justice4242**
> 
> _ok never mind they taste disgusting. Garbage bin it is_

The response was almost instantaneous.

> **From ChainsawMassacre**
> 
> _NO_

Before Justin could finish chuckling at that text, he had an incoming call from Saw. He blinked, taken aback, and had to take a steadying breath before he answered, heart rate speeding up. 

"Hey," - he had to clear his throat for the words to unstick from it - " Hey Saw."

"Hey J," came the answer, before Saw impatiently went on: "What the fuck, man, you can't just throw good food away!"

Bright pleasure bubbled up in Justin's chest at the sound of his voice. He smiled even as he protested. "It _isn't_ good, that's the entire point! It's barely edible!"

"So what, put ketchup on them or something. You'll never learn how to cook if you don't face your own screw-ups. Eat your fucking pancakes, dude!" Saw's voice seemed peculiarly heated, although the bad quality of his mic didn't manage to convey the nuances of his mood.

Justin cocked an eyebrow. "First time we're talking in three weeks and it's to lecture me on food waste?"

He hadn't meant to sound that reproachful, but after a beat of silence Saw awkwardly coughed, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. "Yeah, been a bit busy."

"Oh, okay. I mean, I didn't want to impose or anything," Justin backtracked.

"It's fine," Saw said, quietly. "You never do."

"Oh." Justin felt his expression soften. "Well, I'm glad to hear from you now."

"Yeah," Saw muttered, then gruffly added: "Missed you, man. Sorry for not writing back more."

Those were probably the most affectionate words he had ever uttered towards Justin, and the immediate rush of warmth he felt was mingled with genuine confusion. Something felt off.

"It's fine, Saw, really." 

"Hm." There was another cough, a sound like a gulp, before Saw went on, fast as if to quickly move on from his previous statement. "So tell me, man, how are you, how have you been?" 

Justin wondered how to answer that. _I was afraid that you'd distanced yourself from me because deep down you don't want to be friends with a gay man. A hot guy fucked me over my work desk and still it's you I dream of kissing. I am severely romantically frustrated and have regressed to schoolgirl-levels of pining._

Instead, he said, "Peachy!"

There was a startled laughter. "Peachy?"

"Yep," Justin went on. "I did a proper, formal apology to my boss and he accepted it, so things at work are looking up. Managed to go to the gym on the regular. Unlocked a new skill set for Asura on DA."

"So you really had to apologize to that jackass, huh. I feel you, man, bet it wasn't easy. But cool for Asura, he's a great fighter! Did you get tekele... uh, telele ... ah, shit."

"Telekinesis? Yes, exactly, and it's super fun to play!"

"Nice!"

"And you, how's work been?"

"Ugh. Don't remind me. Got a new overseer and he's the fucking _worst_. Can't even take a piss break without that musto, mustachioed bastard breathing down my back.” An angry sniff. “He gotta be careful or I'll end up getting my hands around that wrinkled neck of his."

"Don't choke him, he might be into that."

"Ugh, why the hell didya put that picture inside my head, J? That's fucking disgusting _._ "

"Learning from the best."

"Yeah yeah, stop flattering, flatterer."

Yes, something was definitely off about Saw's voice this evening, though Justin couldn't pinpoint exactly what yet - and whether it would compromise with his plans. Should Justin still suggest a date? Maybe another day would be better suited ...

 _No,_ Justin firmly told himself. _No_. If he kept on waiting for a perfect occasion to magically present itself, he would never achieve anything. He had to ask Saw _now_ , now or never.

He was really doing it, then. He felt jittery as if from too much coffee, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.

He took a deep, deep breath. Tried to forget about all the ways this could backfire and ruin their friendship. Cleared his throat, and pitched his voice casual. "Change of topic! Have I told you about my former mentor, Nygus?"

Saw hummed in thought. "Yeah, I think you've mentioned her - she's a badass bitch or something, right?"

"I ... doubt I've phrased it quite like that but yes, she's really cool, and a good friend." He steeled himself, his stomach rumbling in a mix of hunger and fear. "Anyway, she has that barn ..."

"Is she as hot as she's badass?" Saw interrupted.

Justin's lips thinned. "I'm the wrong guy to ask that."

"Oh yeah, right." Another clink of glass. "You know what," Saw mused. "I don't think we've ever talked about chicks together since I know you."

Justin frowned, feeling some wariness rise. "Yeah well, there's a reason for that. Your point?"

"Just that looking back I'm a _reaaal_ moron for not figuring out you were gay ages ago."

Justin rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. "It's cute when you're oblivious." Then, in an effort to bring the conversation back on track before his resolve could fade, he added: "I think if you'd met me in person you would have noticed earlier."

Saw sounded genuinely confused. "Huh, why? Are you wearing diamond earrings or what?"

"Since when is that gay? And no thank you, I have a modicum of _taste._ "

There was a mocking snort. "I mean, you main Lord Death, so don't come talking to me 'bout momidums ... mocidums ... whatever."

"Modicums."

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, smartass."

Recognition flickered, sudden and vivid - Justin had heard that exact sentence before, spoken in that exact same inflexion, of that he was certain; but it hadn't been Saw saying it. But who?..

"So what gives you away then?" Saw went on before he could retrieve the exact memory.

Justin shrugged, trying to focus back on the conversation. There were things at stake, here. "I've merely been told my gay vibe is pretty strong."

"Aha," Saw reacted.

A slow grin spread on Justin's face. "Or," he added after a beat. "Maybe it's the pink hot pants, I'm not sure."

It wasn't such a good joke, but Saw exploded into laughter that soon turned to a mad coughing fit - Justin laughed along, proud of himself. He never considered himself a funny person, but managing to get Saw to laugh made him feel like an absolute comedy genius. God, but it felt good. He had missed this.

"Fuck," Saw wheezed between two dry coughs. "You bastard, I just inhaled my vodka!"

... _Oh_. 

Justin frowned. "It's Tuesday evening and you're drinking pure vodka? Aren't you working tomorrow?"

After a moment of further coughing and sniffing, Saw answered with a brusque "Yeah, so?"

The fumbled elocution, the lack of reserve, the heated voice ... It all checked out. Justin mentally bid his carefully planned conversation goodbye, focusing on the problem at hand. "Saw - are you drunk?"

There were a few moments of silence, then Saw mumbled, "Yeah, sorry, shouldn't have called ..."

"Wait, wait, don't hang up!" Justin hastily interjected. "It's alright, I don't mind. It's just ... Dude, is everything alright?"

A bout of unhumorous laughter. "No, not really, no."

Justin had rarely heard Saw that bitter, and his heart squeezed with worry. He deeply wished the static-ridden silence would provide him with more clues on what to say. He propped a hip on the counter, gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

"... You want to talk about it?" he eventually ventured.

"Honestly? I don't know."

"Okay," Justin softly said, then waited, phone pressed tight to his ear. He was still hungry, and absentmindedly nibbled on a piece of burnt pancake, taking care not to disrupt the quiet with chewing noises.

"I mean," Saw said after what felt like a minute had passed. "You know me. I'm not great at talking about ... feelings and shit."

Justin repressed a snort. That was the understatement of the year. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

"And it's ..." There was a deep intake of breath, then a hesitant, "Well...", before he fell silent again.

What the hell is he worked up over, Justin wondered. A dozen of theories were racing through his mind, but there was one, one in particular he didn't dare to face straight on. _Maybe he's nervous for the same reason you are_ , the little voice as a back of his mind whispered before he could tune it out, and oh, how potent a poison hope was. 

"Don't strain yourself, Saw," he said. "But it's just me, okay? You know I'd never judge you."

"Yeah, I know. I trust you."

Again, this baffling honesty. Justin replayed that sentence in his head, the simple but heartfelt words a new treasure to cherish. And waited, chewing on the now lukewarm and rubbery pancake.

"Still there?" he asked after the silence had stretched out some more.

"Yeah, yeah," Saw rumbled. "Just ... gimme a sec." An irritated sigh, then Saw mumbled 'fuck it' under his breath and launched into an explanation:

"So I told you that I fuck guys sometimes, right? I mean. I'm not gay - no offense, dude -, it's just. Hot is hot, and sometimes I like a dick, that's all. It's just a sex thing."

He sounded defensive again, like the last time his liking of men was brought up. Like Justin, of all people, would make fun of him on that topic.

Justin bit on his lower lip, trying to ignore where this conversation might be headed, then said: "No offense taken. Look, I don't mean to pry but ... with women, do you do things that are more than 'just sex'?"

"Uuuh," Saw said eloquently. "Uh, yeah, I have. I mean. Once or twice."

"Once or twice?..." Justin repeated.

"Okay, once," Saw muttered. "Long ago."

"Hm. You see my point?"

Saw grunted. "Still too fucking sober for that conversation," he said with an unhappy, grouchy noise that was so _him_ that Justin couldn't help but smile, overcome by a bright, fierce fondness that lit him up from the inside.

"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"You _didn't_... urgh. You don't need to spare my fuckin' _feelings_ , I'm not a freakin' princess, yeah?"

Justin made a doubtful noise, and Saw snorted. "You git. Okay fine, I'll tell you what's up. But promise ... promise not to laugh, yeah?"

He sounded very vulnerable, and there was a peculiar sense of awe to being allowed to witness that part of Saw, to the closeness they shared even though they'd never met. Online or not, what they had was meaningful, important in a way no relationship in Justin's life had been before. Could he really be blamed for crushing on that guy?

"I promise," he solemnly said.

"Thanks," Saw said, then took an umpteenth deep breath. "So. I met this guy some weeks back. Rocky start, but we did end up messing around eventually. Sex was awesome, like, really great. But ... what I've been feeling since, it's not about the sex ... I've been trying to wait it out, but it's not gone away, 'fraid it's not going to any soon. He just ... got under my skin, but, _bad_. Can't stop thinking about him."

It felt like a punch to the throat.

Saw shouldn't have bothered with a promise - the urge to laugh had never been more distant from Justin's mind. _No_ , he silently mouthed, horrified. _No, no, NO_. Not now, now that he had finally gathered the courage to ask Saw to meet him. Not now that he had admitted to himself he wanted so much more than a friendship.

Had he ... had he seriously missed his window of opportunity? He felt all of the silly fantasies he had harbored slip between his fingers like crumbling sand, a hollow ache in their wake.

Oblivious to his distress, Saw went on, talking much faster now, as if some inner dam had broken and released those terrible words free. "I just, I just don't get it, why my, why my brain pulls this entire shit show. Why him? I mean, he's hot, yeah. Great in the sack, too. But I don't even _like_ him, I mean, not the way I like you for example."

"Well hooray, go me," Justin muttered under his breath, leaning his face into his free hand. It hurt. It hurt, the idea that he could have had it, had he not been too scared, too slow. The fact that it was another man Saw had fallen for made it so much worse somehow. It meant it had been in attainable reach. _It could have been me._

 _Attainable reach, really?,_ a cynical part of himself scoffed. _Realism my ass. Only reason you've been projecting on Saw this hard is because it's easier than to face a relationship with a real person. It's not even a proper crush. You're just lonely and latching onto the first person you didn't drive away._

 _I don't need to meet him to know how much I like him,_ Justin retorted. Of course it was real. The pain he felt certainly felt _very_ real.

Saw's voice rang as if from afar. "I try not to think of him. But I'm just ... on edge, all the time, like I'm ... sniffing bad speed all day long or something. Never had it this bad before. And ... and he's a _guy_ and ... Dunno ... scares the ever-living shit outta me," he confessed, his voice small and tight. "Don't know what I should do."

There was a sad familiarity to Saw's experience, and Justin cringed, sympathy overshadowing his disappointment for a moment. Thank god the period of his life where he had to figure out his own sexuality was long over. Back then he was alone, with no one to talk to about his fears and desires, no one who he knew would have his back no matter what. It could have been worse, sure. But it also could have been a lot better.

 _Pull yourself together_ , Justin ordered himself. Just because Saw didn't reciprocate his feelings, didn't mean he deserved any less than Justin's full support. He needed a sympathetic ear right now, needed Justin, and he'd raise up to the task.

He swallowed back the hurt, and turned on the oven while he ran through a few sentences in his head. To hell with the remaining pancakes - he sorely needed that ready-made lasagna now.

"I get that it's all a very unusual situation for you," he eventually said, his voice tightly controlled. "And yeah, it's a scary thing, to have feelings for someone in that intensity, to lose control in that way."

His mind flashed, unbidden, to Giriko, to the powerful want that seized him in this presence. But that had just been sex, a moot comparison, certainly.

"But I don't think you need to worry yourself in knots. Just talk to him and sort it out. I mean, I guess he likes you back, no?"

He tried to ignore the part of him that fiercely hoped for a negative answer. All he should wish for was for his friend to be happy, never mind with whom. _It could have been me_ , the little voice still crowed. _It could have been me._

There was a sad chuckle. "Yeah, it's ... not that easy."

"Why not?"

"I mean ... you haven't met me, but I'm a bit .. rough around the edges, yeah? Used to run with really bad crowds and shit, and it kinda shows. And he, he's looking all prim and proper, like he stepped straight out of a billboard for, for fucking _polo shirts._ "

What did that mean, that Saw was covered in scars and tattoos? Justin would have to adjust his mental image accordingly. Not that they'd ever meet, now.

"Well he slept with you, so I guess it doesn't bother him that much," he reasonably argued.

He crouched down to shove the lasagna in the oven, made to stand up, then sank towards the kitchen floor instead. The cool tiles felt grounding so he laid down, staring at the ceiling, phone still at his ear.

He felt drained, worn down, leached of all energy. He badly wanted to hang up. _Hold on some more, just a little bit more_ , he commanded himself. _For friendship's sake._

Saw snorted, voice going tight and bitter. "Yeah, I mean, he did say he'd be down to fuck whenever, but that's just sex, you know. And ... and that's not enough. It's not enough." There was a tiny pause, then Saw commented with some surprise: "Fuck, I never thought I'd hear myself say that."

A silent sigh escaped Justin's lips. No, it wasn't enough indeed. "And you think he wouldn't be interested in more?"

"I'm not exactly boyfriend material," Saw muttered, and Justin couldn't stand the resigned, self-deprecating ring of his voice. A sudden surge of fury towards that unknown person who had led Saw to think that he wasn't enough, that he was inadequate, rushed over him, making him grit his teeth.

"Bullshit!" he sneered. "You may have your rough edges, but that's not all you are?! At your core you're that ... incredible, caring, thoughtful, loyal person. If he can't see that then he's a superficial idiot and you’re better off without him." Catching his breath, he blinked at the ceiling, slightly taken aback by his own vehemence.

There was a second of surprised silence, then Saw said, "Uh, thanks, man! Not sure if that really applies to me but still, thanks." He sounded puzzled, but pleased by this outburst, and Justin halfheartedly smiled. At least that was something he could still do, make Saw feel better about himself.

"Don't think he's superficial, but he's an idiot alright," Saw said. "Smart, but still an idiot. And a little shit," he added. "Stubborn, and wily as all hell, self-righteous ... But also so fucking _cute_."

His voice was filled with a sort of warm, tender awe that Justin had never heard before and that he adored immediately. _It's you who's fucking cute_ , he thought, so fiercely that he worried for a second he had said it out loud.

"You sound quite smitten," he said instead around a half-smile.

"I'm not fucking _smitten_ ," Saw bristled, and Justin chuckled despite himself at how absolutely predictable that reaction was.

"Yes you are."

He was trying with all might to feel happy for Saw, trying to sound genuine at least. That would take some getting used too, but he could pull it off, with enough practice. And he’d get lots of practice - by the look of things Saw's infatuation wasn't the kind that would be over by the end of the week.

 _Feelings abate, if you let them_ , he told himself. He should bid his crush farewell, focus on the friendship that was still undeniably there. Sure, it wouldn't be easy, but it'd be worth it, he hoped.

"Guess I am. Fuck I'm so screwed," Saw laughed, a weird laughter that bordered on hysterical, then coughed, calming down. Alcohol sloshed before he talked again, slurring a bit. "Thanks ... thank you for listening, Justice. I got wasted almost non-stop those last few weeks, wonder I didn't get fired, by the way. Wanted to drown it all out, so I'd stop thinking about him, but it didn't help, at all. Avoided you cause I didn't want to tell you about it, but, but I also wanted to, if you get it? Guess I just needed to talk about it in the end, even if it's fucking hard." He sounded deeply earnest about it, too.

"You're welcome, man," Justin said tiredly. "Glad I could be of help." The lie held an aftertaste of bile.

God, but he wanted to drown it all out too, there just wasn't anything to drink in his apartment. Maybe he could order some absinthe online, he thought vaguely, raising his head to watch cheese bubble behind the oven door. Was that too dramatic? The better solution was probably to go to the gym and try to punch a hole through the punching bag, since his knuckles had healed. Or maybe a round of Kishin Hunter. How late was it, anyway? It felt like he’d been on the phone for hours.

"It's all so weird," Saw said, because apparently he still wasn't done with the topic. No reprieve yet, Justin thought, repressing a groan and trying to muster up some attention again.

"I'm just ... not myself when it comes to him. Makes me want to do stuff I never wanted to do. I mean, I even ... Again, I'm not gay, okay? No offense."

Justin's eyes rolled so hard he worried he might strain an eyeball. Some day he'd have to have one long, stern conversation about internalized homophobia with Saw, and explain to him that no, slapping a 'no offense' at the end of an offensive statement didn't turn said statement any more palatable.

"But, I even _blew_ him." There was slight panic in Saw’s voice now. "And not because he asked me to or anything, but because I wanted to. I wanted to, to get on my knees to suck another guy's dick! _Me!_ I have never, ever even _thought_ about doing that before, I swear, but with _him_ ... I just ... Dunno. It felt right. I even _liked_ it, for fuck's sake! I liked having a dick in my mouth. That's not, that's not who I _am_?!"

Justin had no energy left for sex ed talk, and was opening his mouth on a sarcastic commentary that would be unhelpful to Saw, but do wonders to assuage his own nerves; but then Saw added, "He's messing with my head so bad, can't even think straight."

And the other shoe finally dropped.

Justin scrambled to a sit, mind screeching to a halt. He had heard that _exact_ same sentence before, it was undeniable, and this time he also knew just _who_ had spoken it. He gaped like a fish, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

No. Impossible.

But if it was impossible, why did all the little pieces so perfectly align? Why did the voice through his phone, if he made abstraction of the statics and the metallic distortion, sound exactly like that of the man who had whispered the same sentence against his mouth not a month ago?

But no, that was ... far too unlikely. A stupid coincidence, really. The mere idea was, frankly, preposterous. Giriko?!

Still the same few statements kept rolling round and round in Justin's head, loud like marbles on parquet floor. _Rough around the edges. Blew him. Rocky start._

He shook his head, weirded out, and interrupted Saw who had been babbling something Justin hadn't caught a single word of. "Saw ... that guy ... is he a police officer by any chance?"

There, that would settle it, dispel that crazy notion. He hastily tried to come up with a reason for his inquiry, but Saw was either too drunk or too caught up in his lovelorn musings to be intrigued.

"Yeah, he sure is!" he exclaimed. "Bastard even tried to arrest me the first time we met, can you imagine? Kinda the stipping, the sticking point actually - he thinks I'm just some dirty thug, and, I mean, he ain't wrong, that's who I've been for a long time. Why the hell would he want to give me a shot, and even if he wanted to, would _I_ want to, I mean, he's still a, a _guy_ for fuck's sake ... "

Justin stopped listening. His mind was cycling back at top speed to replay each sentence he could remember Giriko ever saying, matching them up to Saw's more familiar speech patterns, and indeed - Every. Single. One. _Matched_. Same inflection, same favored curses, same grouchy noises, same _everything_.

It felt so glaringly obvious in retrospect. How the hell hadn't he noticed before?

"Fuck, I'm such an idiot," he said, staring at the lasagna as if the secret to months of misunderstanding hid in the bolognese.

Saw's drunken rambling stopped. "Huh, what?"

Justin was too appalled by his own stupidity to sugarcoat that epiphany. "Saw, that was _me_. The cop you slept with, that's me. "

There were a few moments of silence on the other side of the line, then a confused: "What the _fuck_ are you talking about, J?"

Justin sighed impatiently, massaging his temples. "My name is Justin Law, rings a bell? Come on, man. Justin? Justice? You really had the easy part here."

Giriko. The person he'd been gaming with and crushing on for the better part of a year was the violence-prone, shady, cop-hating _Giriko_. Nope, it still didn't want to compute.

"I am _such_. An _idiot_!" he exclaimed, overcome with a wave of frustration towards himself, towards Saw, towards the entire world, really.

Saw had some trouble catching up, it appeared. "You're not - we didn't sleep with ..." he stammered, incredulous. "I don't -" He abruptly fell silent.

Exhaustion rolled over Justin like a lead blanket. He closed his eyes, rested his forehead against the warm oven door. "Yeah, we did, buddy. We definitely did."

"..."

Justin slowly breathed in and out, in and out, trying to figure out what to feel. His friend ... his best friend, he should admit it to himself. The person on Earth he liked the most. And they had flirted and fought and fucked. Now what?

After a long moment of silence, he softly called: "Are you still there? Saw?"

And, pitching his voice even softer at the lack of answer: "Giriko?"

On the other side of the line, a harsh intake of breath. Then Giriko hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END
> 
> jk one more chapter to go :p i had to split this because it turned out really long  
> In defense of Justin and Giriko (and my silly plot), I once had my own brother on the phone while doing a phone survey and he (who, let it be noted, has lived 17 years in the same household as me) didn't recognize me, without even the excuse of a bad connection. So much to that very convenient trope!
> 
> If you liked it please comment, it makes me incredibly happy :D

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, never mind how short, make me unbelievably happy! Pliz <3


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